Rise of the Death Phantom
by Oneiromancer
Summary: The battle with Sailor Galaxia and Chaos is over. But questions still remain. How does Usagi become Neo Queen Serenity? And how does Crystal Tokyo come about? A new battle brings the answers. Based on the manga. Please review. Seriously!
1. Chapter 1

(Hi. This story is based on the manga version of Sailor Moon and takes place after the Stars arch. I also don't own any of the characters in this story. Naoko Takeuchi owns them all. I just created the pedestrians.)

Rise of the Death Phantom

Chapter One

In her dream, Usagi was resting upon a bed of satin while Mamoru fed her strawberries that had been dipped in chocolate. He was clad in shining golden armor that came complete with a dark red cape that flew out behind him for what seemed like miles. Usagi, meanwhile, was dressed in a flimsy white dressing gown that rippled with even the faintest breath of wind.

They were outside in a dewy meadow. The sun hung fat and happy overhead, caressing the two lovers with his warming rays. Birds chirped unseen and darted about, a fluttering of wings.

"Mamo-chan, tell me you love me."

He leaned down, bringing his face ever closer to hers. So close that she could smell his aftershave. "I love you," he said.

Bliss! Oh pure rapture!

"And there's something else."

Usagi's giant blue eyes went even larger. She knew what was coming. "Yes?" She asked. "Tell me."

"I want to ask you a question."

Oh, boy. This was it! She knew what was coming. Her heart fluttered in her ribcage like a frightened bird as she looked into her lover's eyes. But she wasn't afraid. Excited? Giddy? Yes. But not afraid.

Mamoru rolled off the bed and went to one knee.

Ohh!!

"Usagi, my dear, sweet love," he began. "Will you-"

_BRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGG!!_

And then the alarm clock on the nightstand screeched to life, announcing the hour with jolting, gut-dropping yelps.

Usagi screamed and jumped three feet into the air. As she did so, her long blonde hair wrapped itself around her neck and began to choke the life out of her. With a startled squeal, she tore the ringlets from her throat, only to have a few stray strands tumble inside her mouth.

Gagging and retching, Usagi spat out her hair, which was wet and stringy with saliva. _I really should start wearing a hair-net to bed_, she thought. And then she realized where she was – in her room. Alone. It had been a dream. _Of course it was a dream_, she thought unhappily. _Only in dreams is Mamo-chan so sweet and charming. In real life, he'd be making sure I did my homework or fussing over whether or not I ate my vegetables._

She sighed and dropped back down into bed. Maybe if she went back to sleep right away, she could re-enter the dream again.

"Usagi, time to get up!" Her mother called from downstairs.

Usagi placed her pillow squarely over her head and pretended not to have heard.

"Usagi! Come on!"

_Oh, Mamo-chan, I'm coming back for you!_

"USAGI!"

With a huff and a puff, Usagi threw the pillow off her head. "I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

She listened for a moment, only to hear silence. Good. Now that her mother had been taken care of, she had at least 5 minutes before she realized she wasn't coming down for breakfast. More than enough time to cuddle with fantasy-Mamoru. And within seconds of closing her eyes, she could smell his aftershave again. The birds were singing. Her skin felt warm from the sun's touch.

And there he was again. It was as if she had never gone.

"I have a question for you," he whispered. "Will you m-"

Suddenly, the world went bright with pain as several needle-like pricks sank deep into her right arm. Usagi screamed and awoke once more, cradling her injured arm against her chest. She looked around her room with wary eyes. What had happened? Who had attacked her? An enemy? Who-

Luna popped out from underneath the covers and purred sweetly.

"You," Usagi growled.

"Yes," Luna said. "Do you have any idea what time it is?!"

"Don't care," Usagi responded tartly as she fluffed her pillow back to perfection. "Good night."

"You have to get up!"

"No! I was having the best dream! I think Mamo-chan was about to propose!" She glared at Luna. "And you ruined it!!"

"Come on, Usagi. You're in your last few days of high school. Why not _start_ trying, just to see what it feels like? And besides, your finals are coming up soon! You can't slack off now!"

Usagi groaned and made a show of kicking off the bed covers. "You don't look a thing like Ami so stop trying to be her, okay?"

Luna followed her mistress to the upstairs bathroom. "Well, it's my duty as your guardian and mentor to make sure you continue with your education. After all, it would be terrible if the future queen of Crystal Tokyo turned out to be an illiterate, bad-mannered, dumpling-head with the IQ of an asparagus."

Usagi frowned. "You're much more sarcastic since your resurrection, I've noticed."

Luna smiled.

"But that's just my point," Usagi said as she ran a brush through her hair. "It's my destiny to become Neo Queen Serenity and rule over Crystal Tokyo. So why do I have to go to school and learn about things that I don't care about? It's stupid."

"What are you going to do in the time between now and then, hmm? Spend the next however many years crashed out in front of the TV eating chips and getting fat? You won't even be able to fit unto your Sailor uniform!"

The mood suddenly changed. It went from teasing, good-natured ribbing one minute to … something else the next. Usagi's arms stopped in mid-brush. Her face went slack and her throat bobbed up and down. "You're right," she said. Her voice was low and without any kind of humor at all. "You're right." She turned away from Luna and began to shakily twist her hair into its trademark bun and noodle style. "Run downstairs and save a seat for me at the table, okay?"

A few minutes passed, and when she thought it safe to turn around, Usagi did. Luna was nowhere in sight. That was good. She didn't want her to know. Nobody could know.

With her hair bunified, she left the bathroom and took the stairs down two at a time to the kitchen. The aroma of delicious, good old-fashioned, home cooking hung thick in the air and it was enough to make Usagi forget all her troubles.

"What're we having?" She asked as she swept Luna off her chair.

Ikuko-Mama turned and smiled at her daughter. "Pancakes."

"YAY!"

At the head of the table, Kenji-Papa rustled the newspaper that he'd been reading. "Is your brother up yet?" He asked, not looking away from the business section.

"I dunno."

"Well, could you go wake him up?"

Usagi frowned as a plate of thick pancakes smothered in syrup was placed in front of her. "I will after I eat. I promise."

Kenji-Papa turned down one edge of the paper so he could properly glare at his insubordinate teenager.

"Please!" Usagi whined. "I'm really, really hungry!"

A chair was pulled out on the other side of the table and Ikuko-Mama sat down heavily. "Young lady, you do what your father says!" She let out an exasperated sigh. "What have I done to deserve such a fate? Not one, but _two_ lazy and disobedient children!"

"Okay, okay," Usagi said, getting up from her spot. "I'm going."

She exited the kitchen and went back up the stairs, heading for Shingo's room at the end of the hall. The door was shut, as usual, with a sign taped to it that read, "DO NOT ENTER" in thick, dark characters. Not wanting to enter the lair of her brother, Usagi knocked twice in rapid succession. "Shingo! Breakfast!"

No reply.

Oh, great. She would probably have to go in. She knocked again, but again, there was no answer.

The mouth-watering smell of Ikuko-Mama's pancakes wafted up from downstairs and that was enough to motivate Usagi. She took a deep breath of air, held it in and pushed open the door.

Forget Shadow Galactica and Chaos. Being in Shingo's room was _true_ terror. It was a mess. Clothing was strewn all over the carpet; the writing desk over in the corner was swamped with schoolbooks and magazines. A half-eaten pizza lay molding in the middle of the floor. A glass of coke had been spilled next to it, creating an ugly dark spot in the middle of the room that vaguely resembled a pee stain.

And the smell… Teen boy hormones. It was the only explanation.

Usagi took a tentative step forward and felt something wrap around her ankle. She looked down and had to control a scream. One of Shingo's athletic supporters he wore for gym was trying to mate with her foot. She kicked it off and sent it sailing over on top of the TV.

Somehow, she managed to navigate the minefield and ended up standing over the bed. A sheet-covered lump pointed that Shingo hadn't even woken up yet. Was _he_ going to get it!

"Shingo. Shingo!"

The lump convulsed and Shingo popped out from under the covers, shirtless and with his brown hair sticking up in every direction. "Get out of my room, dumpling-head!" He said, throwing a pillow at his sister.

It missed by a foot. "Breakfast is on the table."

"Wow. I'm surprised you haven't scarfed everything down already."

_For crying out loud. Princesses shouldn't have to deal with this. _

Usagi shrugged as if she didn't care whether or not he decided to come down. Actually, she didn't. "I promised Mom I'd wake you up. I did. There's nothing more I can do."

"Nah, I'm up. I'm up." Shingo exhaled deeply and jumped out of bed, dressed only in boxers. He smiled at Usagi and burped. And farted. And scratched his belly.

_Gross._

It was impetrative that she get out of the cursed room before anything else happened. She turned quickly on her heels and fled. But as she did so, she couldn't help but notice the posters of scantly clad women that dominated her brother's walls. He had changed. But when? When was the moment he had transformed from annoying little brother into downright obnoxious post-pubescent teenager? Had it been a gradual transition? She wished she knew. As she made her way to the hallway, she couldn't help but think that she hardly knew her family at all. She had spent the last several years of her life working hard to protect Earth from peril as Sailor Moon, but in the process, she had drawn further and further away from her family. It was sad, really. But still-

"Move, DUMPLING-HEAD!" Screamed Shingo. He was already dressed for school and came thundering down the hall, making a beeline for Usagi. She tried to sidestep, but couldn't move out of the way in time. There was a terrible collision.

Usagi was thrown to the floor. Her vision was nothing but a mass of swirling stars. She couldn't see anything, but she heard the rapid footsteps of Shingo whiz by her head. "Ya snooze, ya lose!"

_Children these days_, Usagi thought to herself as she took back to her feet. _I think Shingo would benefit greatly from a starlight honeymoon therapy kiss._ Yes. That was a great idea.

Except…

No. She wouldn't think about that now. Couldn't.

_But what if-_ a part of her mind whispered stubbornly.

No! She would just take things one day at a time. She'd deal with …whatever else when the time came. If it ever did.

_And besides_, she thought to herself. _Mom made pancakes._

…

"I can't believe my eyes. Usagi up and about before 8:00?"

Usagi frowned as she joined her three friends on the sidewalk. "Thanks a lot, Mako-chan. Here I am trying to turn over a new leaf and all the thanks I get is sarcasm!"

Makoto threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Well, you know what they say about dogs and their spots."

"Leopards," Ami said. "There _is_ no saying about dogs and spots. It's leopards. Leopards don't change their spots. This is another way of saying-"

Makoto sighed. "Just forget I said anything."

The four schoolgirls turned a street corner and joined the rest of Tokyo's populace as they made their way to Juuban High. It was early morning rush hour and the streets were clogged with cars. Looking inside, drivers could be seen munching on a last-minute breakfast or cursing the barely moving traffic. The sidewalks were no better. The pedestrians were shoulder-to-shoulder as they tried to navigate to their respective businesses or schools. It was a beautiful day, with the sun glistening off the glass Tokyo high-rises, but the honking of horns and the smog-belching cars diminished that beauty greatly.

"So," Minako said, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Aren't you excited? We only have a few more days of high school left! Then after that-"

"University!" Ami exclaimed. Her blue eyes glistened with the promise of continued education. "Oh, girls! It'll be so much fun! The late night cram sessions, the pressure, the dog-eat-dog nature of college academics! I can't wait!"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

It was then that she noticed the black portfolios everyone was carrying. She felt her legs go weak. Her heart began to thud. She had a feeling. "What're those?" She asked, pointing to the large black bags.

Makoto turned. "This?" She asked, holding hers up.

"Yeah. What is it?"

She looked sideways at Ami and Minako before turning her attention back to Usagi. "Our final English project." Makoto paused, noticing the horrified look on Usagi's face. "Oh, no. You didn't forget about it, did you?"

Ami rushed past Makoto and took hold of Usagi's shoulders and shook her. "That project's worth 25 percent of our final grade! How could you forget?! I can't _believe_ you!"

"Ami, cut it out!" Minako screamed as she came to Usagi's aide. She managed to pry Ami's hands off from around the other girl's neck. "I'm sure she didn't forget about it. She probably just forgot it was due today and left it at home. Isn't that right?"

Usagi's lip began to tremble.

"Isn't that right?"

Usagi's eyes began to tear.

The three other girls exchanged glances. The dam was about to break any minute.

It was as if somebody flipped a switch. Usagi's eyes burst out with a torrent of tears and she collapsed upon the sidewalk, wailing uncontrollably.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Cried Makoto as she pulled her friend back to her feet. "People are staring at you!"

"I'm not feeling so good." Usagi put a trembling hand to her stomach. "I think I'm gonna puke." She turned away from the others. "Could you guys do me a favor and tell the teacher I wasn't feeling well and had to stay home?"

"But you had the entire semester to work on it!" Ami cried, continuing her tirade on laziness and the inability to turn assignments in on time.

"There's no way you'd be able to finish it in just one day," Minako chimed in. "It'd be better to just face the music."

The words went in one ear and out the other. That was easy for her to say. Usagi knew she couldn't afford another zero, especially on a project as big as this one. She was on the borderline of failing anyway. Despair settled over her like a dark cloud. How could she have forgotten about it? And it was English! Her worst subject! Why should she have to learn English when she lived in Japan? Whose crazy idea was that, anyway?!

Her stomach heaved.

"I've gotta go home. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Usagi turned and was about to sprint away, when she stopped. Something had happened. She looked about, hoping to see if anybody else had noticed anything. Apparently not. Business-suited men and women continued to pass by, drinking coffee or reading from a newspaper. Maybe it had been her imagination.

But then it happened again. Only this time it was far more pronounced.

The ground beneath Usagi's legs trembled. A car alarm sounded in the distance. The people on the street stopped and looked about. A deep rumbling could be heard billowing from off in the distance. Up overhead, a flock of birds took off from their perch on the edge of a building and flew west, squawking madly.

And then everything was quiet. The car alarm went silent. Not a word was uttered among the people on the sidewalk. The honking of horns ceased.

_The calm before a storm_. That was what went through Usagi's mind in the split second between peace and bedlam.

And then pandemonium struck. The rumblings grew in intensity and became roars. There was an explosion of some kind off in the distance. But before any sense could be made of it, the ground pitched wildly to the left. Usagi, Ami, Makito, and Minako tumbled to their feet, along with the rest of the pedestrians.

Usagi put her hands out to brace herself for the fall and managed to avoid striking her face on the pavement. But as her hands hit the ground, she could feel the shaking of the earth. It was trembling slightly. But the tremblings were growing more and more frequent.

Suddenly, the entire city seemed to shift quickly to the right. Then to the left again. Something exploded again nearby. Glass shattered. There was a deafening roar as a dilapidated building across the street fell. It collapsed with a shower of dust and debris. Razor-like shards of glass were thrown into the air and rained down upon the helpless pedestrians.

"Earthquake!" Somebody screamed out.

Another series of explosions shook the street. Fireballs shot into the air.

Usagi felt someone grab her wrist and haul her to her feet. She looked and saw Makoto standing (with difficulty) before her. Her curly brown hair had come loose from her ponytail and now hung in her face. Her uniform's skirt was ripped. "You okay?" She asked quickly.

A fresh shudder sent Usagi toppling backwards. She managed to regain her balance at the last second, however. It felt as if they were in some kind of box and somebody was shaking it for all their worth. It was so hard to stand. The people on the street were like marbles, rolling this way and that, not being able to gain a footing.

"We've got to transform and help out," Makoto said. She looked about hurriedly. Then her eyes settled on a nearby alleyway. "This way! Hurry!"

Usagi and the others followed Makoto to the alleyway amid the screams and cried of the Tokyo people, who, only moments before, had been going absentmindedly about their day.

Once sheltered by the darkness and seclusion of the passage, Makoto wasted no time. She raised a hand toward the heavens and cried out, "Jupiter Crystal Power!"

The others followed suit.

"Venus Crystal Power!"

"Mercury Crystal Power!"

"MAKE-UP!!"

Usagi shielded her eyes as the three schoolgirls before her disappeared in a shower of green, yellow, and blue glitter. And when it was over, the three girls were gone and in their places stood three guardian soldiers in their Sailor Star uniforms. Sailor Jupiter, Venus, and Mercury. The transformation had scrubbed away the dirt and grime from their faces. Makoto's hair was back in place and perfectly curled. Their cheeks were rosy with the promise of action. They looked absolutely beautiful.

"Let's go!" Venus cried as she led the charge back outside.

Usagi watched after them as the soldiers ran down the still-rocking street in a flurry of ribbons. She watched as Sailor Mercury used her Aqua Mirage attack to douse a raging fire that had started when a car had ran into another an ruptured its fuel tank. She saw Sailor Venus holding up a bridge threatening collapse with her Love Chains. And there was Sailor Jupiter, using brute strength to lift a toppled tree off a family of four.

Maybe….

The weight of the transformation brooch seemed immense. It had to have weighed a hundred pounds. Usagi's fingers traced the outline of the heart-shaped ornament. She sighed. This was what she had been fearing since the day she had returned from the battle with Chaos. Since the day she had found out.

She stuck her head out the alley again. She couldn't see the others, but she knew they needed her.

She had to…

She licked her lips.

"Silver Moon Crys-"

But before she could finish, the earthquake stopped. Just like that. The sound of buildings toppling and metal crunching ceased. Then the screams and cries of anguish filled the air. It was over. The event, anyway. Now cleanup would commence.

Usagi let out a sigh of relief. Sailor Moon hadn't been needed after all. _This time, _her mind corrected. True, true. But she wasn't about to think about that now.

…

That night, Minako sat down in front of her compute, ready to scan the net for any … opportunities. She did this every night. Artemis hounded her for it, saying she was becoming obsessed, but she didn't care. That was how she landed her role on _Mega Heartache Homeroom Hearts. _It hadn't been a major part – just a reoccurring role as the dastardly teen-queen Mischa Yamamoto, archrival to Suzu Mimata, the girlfriend of the school's football star, who, unbeknownst to all, was secretly dying of an incurable disease.

The horror.

The pay wasn't great. In fact, it was almost nonexistent. But Minako didn't mind. She was getting _exposure_ by appearing on the early-morning soap. And _exposure_ was what it was all about. _Hearts_ had a significant cult following and it was just a matter of time before some of the big-name directors saw potential in little Minako Aino. Potential was another word she heard tossed around a lot in the business. You either had potential or you didn't. And you had to have been born with it. There was no way to acquire potential later in life. Kind of like grace.

"Don't tell me you're at it again."

Minako turned and just in time to see Artemis jump onto the table. "Yes, I'm at it again," she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "Now scoot."

Artemis arched his back and curled up into a ball next to the computer. "What is it this time? More sappy soaps? Or some low-budget horror flick?" He meowed. "Or maybe you're just trying to pick up some junior high boys in one of those disgusting love chat rooms?"

Minako shot up from her swivel chair and scooped Artemis up with booth hands. She carried him over to his kitty-bed with arms outstretched like she was handling some kind of toxic waste product. "I'm looking for opportunities. Job opportunities, that is. And if I were you, I wouldn't complain. The more money I make, the more cat treats I'll be able to buy for you." She plopped him down into his bed. "Don't forget who takes care of you around here."

She returned back to the computer. It seemed like nobody was hiring. Pity. Oh, well. She'd try again tomorrow. Tenacity. That was another word she was beginning to appreciate.

But before she hit the sack, she decided to look up the earthquake that had happened earlier in the day. She entered the word "Earthquake" into the searchbar and with a few short keystrokes, entered it into a data query search.

_Ami has nothing on me_, she smiled to herself.

Ah. More than 5 million hits. The top few seemed to relate to the one that happened today. She clicked on the first link.

Apparently, it had been a great disaster. The damage had been spread out and the eastern half of Tokyo lay in ruins. The section that Minako and the others had been in had been furthest away from the epicenter and therefore the least impacted.

Minako scrolled down. Pictures of ruined houses and roads that had been cracked in two filled the page. It was horrible. One picture showed an elementary school that had been destroyed by the quake. It was nothing more than a pile of smoking rubble. A firefighter stood in front of its remains, holding a crying boy who was bleeding profusely from a gash in his head.

A nine pointer on the Mercalli scale. Hundreds dead. Thousands injured.

Minako exited that page and clicked on another. It was a chat room that was being used for people to talk about the disaster. Most posts were along the lines of "I can't believe it" or "I was at so-and-so when it happened." Each post had a name attached to it and Minako clicked on each one.

Up near the top of the page was a post she had overlooked. There was no name assigned to it, but only a series of X's where the name should have been. She clicked on it.

Three lines were all that the post contained. It read:

_Earthquake. Tokyo._

_Nine. 468 dead._

_Seven days._

-- XXXXX

Minako's brow crinkled. That was odd. And kind of creepy, too. Maybe it was the matter-of-fact wording, or maybe it was seeing the number of dead right in front of her like that. Regardless, it was disturbing.

She was about to click away, when she hesitated. Her eyes moved to the post date. When she saw it, she felt the air rush out of her lungs in one long gust. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a silent gasp.

It was dated one week ago exactly.

Seven days…

Seven days until the earthquake. Whoever had posted this had known about it beforehand! But how? How was that possible?

Prediction, perhaps?

Minako turned slightly, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. "Artemis, what do you think of this?"

Silence.

"Artemis? Artemis!" She looked behind her and smiled a little to herself.

Artemis was curled into a ball in his little bed, purring softly in his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lunchtime at Juuban High was Usagi's favorite part of the day. Normally, she would have been more than happy to spend the lunch period happily chowing down on the packed lunch Ikuko-Mama had prepared, or even sampling some of Makoto's fantastic homemade beef roast (albeit behind her back). But things were different now.

When the bell had rung for lunch, Usagi made her way to the roof as she usually did. On a normal day, she would usually plow headfirst into her meal and it would be more or less gone before a full minute had elapsed. But today was different. Her lunch bag remained at her side, untouched. The smell of rice cakes and pudding did nothing to alter her loss of appetite. All she wanted to do was sit on the roof and count the minutes as they ticked by. Quiet time like this wasn't good. She wanted to go back to class. She needed something to focus on, to occupy her time. Otherwise, her thoughts might wonder.

Usagi sighed and got up, brushing dust and pollen from her skirt. She slowly made her way over to the edge of the roof. With her hands on the railing, she was able to strain forward slightly for a better view of the city beyond the school's walls.

Juuban High and its surrounding areas had been spared the brunt of the quake's fury. The only evidence that anything at all had happened was some window-less storefronts and a few fissures in the streets. But as the eye moved further out to the horizon, the total impact of the destructive force could be seen. High-rise office buildings and smaller shops continued on for several blocks beyond Juuban High, but all of the sudden, they simply vanished. A mass of crumbling stone and twisted metal formed a ragged perimeter past the other standing structures.

It was like a massive bomb had gone off in the heart of Tokyo, its destruction limited to a crater-like span of several city blocks. Many buildings had collapsed. The streets and roads of that section of town weren't visible under the heap of debris. Debris that at one time had been homes and businesses and schools.

Last night on TV they had said the death toll was currently at 412, but that number was expected to rise. And as Usagi watched firemen continue to pull bodies out from the smoldering rubble, she found it all to easy to believe.

"There you are!"

Usagi turned to see Ami come bounding up the stairwell and out onto the roof. She was out of breath and her forehead glistened with perspiration. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Usagi smiled and turned her back on the earthquake's destruction. "I always eat up here."

Ami shook her head and rested her hands on her knees. "I … know. We …. should have checked … here …. first." Her words came out choppy and forced. It was obvious she had been doing some serious running around. Finally though, she managed to catch a second wind and stood erect – her back straight as a rod, chest out, shoulders back – what Usagi liked to call "Ami at attention."

"But you know what they say," she continued. "The thing you're searching for is always in the last place you look for it."

"Then maybe you should've looked here first and saved yourself a lot of trouble," Usagi suggested.

"True," Ami said.

Usagi tried to force a smile but couldn't. She had too many things on her mind. She felt the tears well up and she turned away. She was crying because of the earthquake and because of all the deaths associated with it, but she also wept because of her ineptitude. The sight of Sailor Jupiter, Mercury, and Venus leaping into action while she herself stayed behind to watch from afar was still fresh in her mind.

Not wanting the stern and sometimes overbearing Ami to see her this way, Usagi quickly turned away and pretended to study the sun as it floated across the sky.

There was a moment's silence and then Ami spoke up. "It's terrible." She had moved over to the railing along side Usagi and was staring out at the ruined city. For several seconds she remained like that. With her hands draped casually over the rail and the wind blowing her short black hair back off her forehead, she was a vision of loveliness. Maybe it was from the way the sun highlighted her porcelain face or maybe it was just her whole demeanor – the one that was undeniably Ami. But whatever it was, Usagi was a little jealous of her. Brains and beauty. What a combination.

"Let's go," she said, taking hold of the other girl's hand. "The others are waiting for us."

With a nod and a sniffle, Usagi turned and followed her friend down the stairs. Her eyes were still dripping tears, but Ami hadn't said anything about it. She must've noticed it; her eyes were as red as a rabbit's. But not a word was spoken. And what a relief that was. Usagi didn't know if she could explain it. Part of the reason she was so down was because of the earthquake, sure, but the other and bigger part of it all was what she had been hiding from everyone ever since the return from the battle with Chaos – the thing she would never reveal until she had a better grasp on the situation.

Lunch period was winding down. Many students were already heading back to their classes with full stomachs. Ami and Usagi weaved in and out of them, finally coming to a stop outside a classroom at the end of a hall. Minako and Makoto were already inside. Makoto had pulled up an empty chair to the front of the room and was sitting on it backwards with her chin resting on the top of the seat. She looked bored. Minako stood at the front of the class behind the teacher's podium with some papers in her hand. Her face was stern and set. With her long blonde hair and jaunty red bow holding it all in place, she looked like a new, naïve schoolteacher who had not yet realized how disobedient and unruly teenagers could be.

She noticed Ami and Usagi enter and gestured for them to take a seat. They did. "I know we only have a few minutes until class, so I promise I'll be brief, ladies and gentlemen."

Makoto looked around. They were the only ones there. She elbowed Ami. "Which one of us is the 'gentleman'?"

Minako cleared her throat loudly. That seemed to do the trick. She had the floor again. "Last night, I was on the net looking for casting calls, and-"

Makoto snorted.

Minako shot her a dirty look.

"Sorry," Makoto smiled. "Allergies."

Minako frowned disapprovingly. She bent her head downward to look at some notes and in that split second, Makoto jabbed Usagi and rolled her eyes. A few silent gagging simulations were thrown in for good measure.

"Anyway, like I was saying, I was on the internet when I made a rather shocking discovery." She stepped out from behind the podium. Three printouts were in her hands. She passed them around the group. "I made a copy for each of us. I have more at home that I'm going to share later with Rei, Haruka and the others. Okay, now look at the-"

Makoto raised her hand.

"Yes, Mako-chan?"

"Can I use the potty, Ms. Aino? I have to tinkle weally, weally bad!"

Usagi burst out laughing so hard that she fell over backwards. Her skirt flew up over her head, giving the stern-faced "Ms. Aino" a good show. Seeing the expression on her face was just too much and a fresh round of squealing, glass-shattering laughter started up.

Makoto joined in, laughing so hard that she began to fart. It came out in tiny little squirts that sounded just like a tiny bicycle horn being tooted. Usagi screamed and covered her nose with both hands. All her troubles were gone. Trust the ever-loving Mako-chan to make everything better.

Ami remained in her seat with her head in her hands, clearly embarrassed to be even _remotely_ associated with these two adolescents.

_CRACK!!_

The sudden noise was completely unexpected. Makoto and Usagi sprung into the air with their hands over their chests and their eyes bulging from their sockets. Minako stood over them with a ruler in her hand.

"What's your problem?!" Makoto shouted. "You scared us half to death!"

There was no humor in Minako's eyes. "Would you two please act your age for two seconds? This is Sailor business."

That was all it took. Makoto nodded solemnly and helped Usagi to her feet. The atmosphere in the room became akin to that of a serious company meeting.

"Look at the paper I gave you," Minako said. There was something in her voice… Not fear, exactly – it wasn't that pronounced – but it certainly could've been classified as "unease".

The other girls looked down at their copies. Usagi did the same.

_Earthquake. Tokyo._

_Nine. 468 dead._

_Seven days._

-- XXXXX

Nobody quite knew what to say. Were they supposed to be shocked? Amazed? Amused? What?

"I don't get it," Makoto said.

"It's about the earthquake," Usagi offered.

"Well, thank you for _tha_t startling revelation. What I mean is, how is this Sailor business?"

"Look at the date it was posted," was all Minako said.

Eyes dropped.

"One week ago yesterday!" Marveled Ami.

Minako nodded and returned to her place behind the podium. "So whoever posted this knew about the quake before it ever happened."

_Don't tell me that_, Usagi thought to herself. She folded the paper away and tucked it into her skirt's pocket. It didn't feel right to hold it in her hands. There wasn't time for creepy stuff to happen! If an enemy attacked now, there'd be no way on earth that she'd be able to graduate. She was already on thin ice as it was. Luckily, school had been called off yesterday due to the earthquake and she'd been able to complete her English project during the night in a flurry of glue-stick and paper-cutting madness. She'd made a 55 on the blasted thing, but it was enough to keep her from failing utterly.

For now.

Extraterrestrial demon entities were so uncooperative when it came to respecting people's schedules.

"Do you think a new enemy's behind this?" Makoto asked. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Usagi.

Minako opened her mouth to respond, but Usagi cut in before a word could be uttered. "Let's not jump to conclusions. It's probably a hoax or something."

Makoto twisted her mouth in a gesture of deep thinking. She raised a hand to her ear and fiddled with one of the rose earrings she always wore. "I guess that's possible. Ami, could someone change a post date to make it appear like it was put up earlier?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted it. Was she actually _encouraging_ an Ami techno babble?

All three other girls made a valiant effort to change the subject but Ami was clearly trilled to have an opportunity to show off her 300 IQ. Stopping her now would be too much trouble. Eh, what the heck? She had a birthday coming up in a few months anyway.

"Could a post be made to appear older than it actually was? Hmm." Ami leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the light fixtures. "Doing so would take an extensive knowledge of the network and programs used therein. Theatrically speaking, an at this point, these are all hypotheses, one would have to gain access to the prime operating systems and-"

Usagi's brain went dead.

Three minutes passed. Three minutes may not sound like much, but when listening to Ami explain something technical, three minutes can easily go on for centuries.

"- of course, the internal clock system on any personal computer or laptop is responsible for noting important dates and such. That isn't to say, however, that-"

"AMI, YOU'RE KILLING ME!!" Minako banged her head into the podium and wept. "A yes or no answer would be a plenty!"

Ami blinked. "I don't really know."

The three girls fell over.

"You don't know? You don't _know_?!" Minako advanced toward Ami with her hands outstretched. She looked rabid. All that was missing was salvia oozing from her mouth. "You wasted however many minutes of my life to tell me you don't know?!"

She pounced. Ami screamed.

Makoto was out of her chair in a shot and jumped between the aggressor and soon-to-be-victim. "Down, girl! Down!"

Glaring diabolically at Ami, Minako returned to her place at the front of the room.

"I think we can assume it's authentic," Makoto said. "Whoever posted this must have supernatural abilities."

Usagi felt her stomach drop.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean he or she is an enemy."

"Yes!" Usagi bolted out of her chair and shook Makoto's hand. "I agree! Whoever it is is not an enemy! Let's go back to class!"

And as if in confirmation that the meeting was indeed over, the bell rang. Lunch period was over.

Usagi, Makoto, and Ami arose and head for the door.

"Hey, where are you guys going? The meeting's not over until I say it is!" Minako freaked.

"But the bell rang," Ami said helplessly. The bell and rung and the call of the bell was infinitely stronger than Minako's commands.

With a sigh of defeat, Minako joined the others. "Well, as leader of the Sailor Soldiers, I think it's worth investigating."

Doors were being closed by now and Usagi knew a tardy – just being one second late – could mean the difference between graduating or staying in high school forever. At least for her. It was a sad fact that high school teacher were very inconsiderate when it came to their student's personal lives. Amazing how much teachers and hell-demons had in common. Coincidence? Usagi thought not.

"Knock yourself out, V-Babe," Usagi said as she strolled down the hall on her way to her next period class. "Protect us from the evil psychics! The rest of us are going to class."

Makoto laughed.

It was only later that Usagi realized she never did eat her lunch that day.

…

A few doors down, lunchtime at Juuban Junior High was also ending. But instead of heading back to class, the halls were filled with students making their way to the auditorium. A guest speaker from the high school was scheduled to talk about the Joys and Wonders of being a High School Student. The talk was planned to take up just about the entire afternoon, so it was no surprise that all the students were pretty happy. Everyone was laughing and giggling, grateful for the brief respite from studying and boring class work.

Everyone, that was, except for one lone girl standing by herself in a corner.

Hotaru Tomoe remained off to one side as her classmates filed past her and into the auditorium. She watched them go. Nobody spoke to her or gave any indication that they were even aware of her presence. She was a ghost.

Laughter echoed off the walls and the sound of the entire school chattering at once could be heard coming from inside the auditorium. It was like a vocal tidal wave. It would rise, die down for a bit, then somebody would crack a joke and the student body would roar once again. Hotaru listened to it all, feeling extremely cut-off. She wished she could join in the happiness and the gaiety of whatever it was her classmates were doing. But she couldn't. It wasn't that she was anti-social or anything. She was just shy.

_Relax and be true to yourself._ That had been Michiru's advice when she had told her of her difficulty in social situations. _You're a great person. Special. If you believe and stay true to nobody but yourself, others will be attracted to your inner light._

Yes. Maybe. Except Hotaru's "true self" was the problem. Her soul was so timid and weak. Michiru could never understand. She was so elegant and ladylike – master of the arts and a world-renown violinist. And who was Hoatru? An invisible outcast.

Even worse than Michiru was Haruka. Now there was a person with it all. She was the perfect human specimen as far as Hotaru was concerned. Her beauty – androgynous. She could easily take on the appearance of a man or woman and look positively breathtaking either way. Her strength – unparalleled. She was by far the strongest of the Sailor Soldiers, as far as physical strength was concerned. And what a mind she had for battle strategies!

Maybe that was why Haruka didn't even understand the concept of what Hotaru was talking about when she spoke about her introversion. Haruka was a famous racecar driver, adored and idolized by both men and women. She lived in another world apart from Hotaru.

By now, the crowd in the hall was thinning and Hotaru decided she better get a move on or she'd miss the lecture. Not that was particularly interested in hearing about what high school had to offer. She was only a second year middle school student and she figured she still had plenty of time to worry and freak over the entrance exams. But the entire school was required to attend. It was probably a sly bit of planning on the teacher's part to pump school morale so that the grades at the end of year testing would be exceptionally high and they, in turn, would receive bonuses for being such outstanding teachers.

The auditorium was dimly lit and very noisy. Up on stage, the principle was talking to a group of teachers. Some Hoatru recognized and some she did not. The others were more than likely high school faculty. And there, spread out in front of the stage, were rows and rows of screaming middle schoolers. As soon as Hotaru caught sight of the teeming audience she felt her heart race. Her throat constricted. Being in front of such a large group of people was terrifying.

_Don't panic_, she told herself. _They aren't going to attack you or anything. Just find a spot to sit down. Be cool about it. No big deal._

Luckily, she spotted two empty chairs out of the corner of her eye and made a dash for them. She collapsed wearily in the seat closest to the aisle. Her heart was still thumping wildly from her near panic attack. And she'd only been in front of the room for a few seconds! It wasn't like she was on stage or anything!

This is what I'm talking about, you guys. Hotaru leaned back in her chair and thought of Haruka, and Michiru and how they didn't understand her and her fears. Setsuna was the only one who even came _close_. She, being a little distant and quiet herself, could offer sympathy and understanding, but not any answers on how to fix the problem. Setsuna had accepted who she was and saw no problem. Hotaru didn't feel the same. She didn't want to live her life in the shadows without any friends. That would be hell.

"Hey, excuse me."

Hotaru looked up to see a pretty blonde girl standing over her.

"You're actually in my seat," the girl said.

"Oh. I – I'm sorry. I had no idea." Hotaru bowed her head so she wouldn't have to look at the other girl's face as she moved down a chair.

The blonde girl snickered. "That's no good either. My friend has to sit down too, you know." She jabbed a finger at a girl behind her with red braids.

"Oh." Hotaru got up. Her face was growing hot. She knew her face was already as red as a tomato. "I'm really sorry. I-"

Red-braids pushed roughly by her. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just get out of the way."

"Thank you _ever_ so much!" Blondie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hoatru nodded hurriedly and found another empty seat a few rows back. But even at that distance, she could still hear the two girls talking up ahead.

"Who in the world was that?" Asked the redhead.

The blonde laughed. "I have _no_ idea." The disgust was evident in her voice.

Hotaru looked down at her shoes. _If only Chibiusa was here_. If she were, the two of them would be launching spitballs at the backs of those snobs. And then they would laugh about it for days afterward. Chibiusa. The only real friend she'd ever had. The times she'd spent with the little prankster from the future had been some of the best times of her life. They went to school together, went shopping together… They had been as close as sisters. Had been. After the Galaxia saga, she'd been transported back to the 30th century, never to return. So Hotaru was back at where she'd started. Alone and friendless. But still … a lost friendship is better than having none at all.

"Quiet, please quiet. May I have some quiet?"

The principle had taken the stage. He tapped on the microphone that was attached to the podium. A series of deep _thumps_ silenced the crowd.

"Today you're all in for a treat. We have the principle of the high school here with us to speak a little about what it means to become a high school student." He smiled and turned to the tall, bald man to his right. "Mr. Tanaka?"

The other man took the middle school principle's place. "Thank you, Mr. Kudo." He turned to the kids laid out in front of him and flashed them all a toothy grin. "Before we begin, how many of you out there are ninth graders?"

A few pathetic hands went up.

Apparently unswayed by the tremendous lack of enthusiasm, Mr. Tanaka went on. "Well great! That's fantastic! I bet all of you are super excited to be moving up in the world of education." He chuckled. "Provided you all pass the entrance exams!"

He waited for laughter. He got none.

Mr. Tanaka cleared his throat loudly and loosened his tie. "But enough of me talking. I'll come back later to answer some of the more technical details of the admission process. But now I want to introduce to you a proud high school student who will talk to you about all the fun activities Juuban High has to offer. I'd like you to welcome…" He paused and looked down at some notes. "Oh yes. Please welcome Satoshi Yomata."

Instantly, the world was bathed in cherry pink light. Birds sang. The sun shone. Everything was beautiful, if only for an instant. Hotaru was put on full alert as the high schooler appeared. Her pupils dilated with viewing pleasure. Her face flushed – but not out of embarrassment.

Satoshi Yomata was _the_ singularly most attractive male she had ever laid eyes on in her life.

He was tall and well built. He strode to the podium with long purposeful strides. When he reached the podium he smiled. The overhead lights cast him in a perfect circle of luminance and the finer details of his appearance could be made out in greater detail. And the more Hotaru saw, the more she liked. His face was strong and angular. His eyes were perfect almonds and as dark as a midnight sky. His hair, jet-black and longer than average, created a curtain from which those eyes of his peeked out.

Dressed in his dark military-styled high school uniform, he looked so mysterious and unattainable.

There was a soft click as the microphone was turned off.

"I don't think I need this," the boy said. "I have a big enough mouth as it is." He laughed genuinely. Both his laugh and voice were deep and sensual. "Can you hear me out there, Juuban junior?!"

The crowd roared to life, invigorated by Satoshi's easygoing manner. It was clear he wasn't at all nervous speaking in front of large groups. Hotaru sunk down deep into her chair and watched as he moved out from behind the podium and sat on the edge of the stage with his feet dangling.

"I bet you're all excited about going to high school am I right?'

The students groaned. Now that they were among a fellow kid, they felt no need to hide their true feelings.

Satoshi didn't seem to be offended in the least. "That's what I thought. Hey, it's okay. I was one of you. I sat right where you're sitting now not so long ago and thought the same thing." He smiled and Hotaru thought she just might pass out.

"Let's just bypass all that boring education stuff for a while and talk about what really matters. The fun stuff. Over at the high school, we have about a million clubs that you can join that represent a variety of interests."

He paused and scanned the room. "You there!"

Hotaru blinked. The eyes of the entire auditorium were focused on her. And …oh, no… he was pointing at her. She felt her face erupt in a frenzy of blushing. She pretended to feign ignorance and looked behind her.

Up at the front of the room, Satoshi laughed. "Yes, you! The pretty girl with the short black hair."

Hoatru turned back around. "M-m-me?"

"Yes." Satoshi's eyes were locked on hers. He was pretty far away from her, but it felt as if they were only inches apart. His eyes were hypnotic. "What's your dream? What's your goal in life?"

"To be a nurse," she said. She didn't stammer at all.

"That's great! We offer some great courses that specialize in nursing! With a little help from us, I'm sure you'd be at the top of your field. Nurse Pretty Girl, that's what they'd call you." He gave Hotaru one final smile before moving on. "Swimming, computers, dance! Whatever your passion is, we can accommodate it! We have a wide variety."

Hotaru made herself comfortable. She could listen to this guy forever.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end some time. Satoshi closed his speech with a special message to the ninth graders to keep their grades up and turned it back to Mr. Tanaka. But before he left the stage, the crowd gave him a huge round of applause – applause that quickly cut off when Tanaka reappeared.

When the lecture was over, the students flew up from their seats and moved in mass like cattle to the exit. Hotaru was pinned against the stage and the first row of seats as she tried to avoid being trampled to death. The crowd eventually thinned out and she was about to leave when somebody tapped her on the shoulder

She turned. Her mouth hit the floor.

Satoshi Yomata was standing there! Sa-Satoshi Yomata had touched her!

"Hey," he said.

"Hello," Hotaru managed.

"Could you point me in the direction of the main office? I have some papers I need to hand over there." He rustled something in his right hand in proof.

Hotaru nodded. She was actually talking to him! She felt like she was about three seconds away from wetting herself. "You just go down that hall there and turn left. Go about ten yards and you'll see a water fountain. There should be some steps near it. Go down and you'll come to a branch. Take the right path. Turn left, right, and left again and that should take you to the office. Can't miss it."

Satoshi just stood there.

Hotaru frowned. "Did I give bad directions?"

Satoshi laughed. "Well, maybe you just operate at a higher level than me. Could you walk me there? Maybe that would be easier."

"Sure!" She ejaculated.

"You won't miss your next class, will you?"

"No, no, no." Hotaru led him out into the empty hallway. He was a good foot and a half taller than she. He smelled _great_. "I have PE next, so it won't be a major tragedy if I miss it."

"I guess not."

The two of them walked in silence with Hoatru leading the way. After passing the water fountain, Satoshi spoke up. "The moved the office since I was here."

"Oh? What grade are you?"

"Eleventh."

Wow! She was talking to an eleventh grader! How exciting! She'd never really carried on a conversation with a high schooler before. Well, there was Usagi and them all – they were in twelfth- but… but they didn't really count.

They went down the steps.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," Satoshi said. "I didn't mean to if I did."

Hotaru waved the apology away. "Not at all," she lied. "You were great back there. You really have a way with words."

"Thanks. I hope to have a career in public speaking one day."

They came upon a branch and took the right path.

"Well, I don't envy you at all," Hotaru said, giving him a quick flash of a smile.

"Why?" He asked.

"I hate talking to people! It makes me crazy. I'm so shy, it isn't funny."

Satoshi chuckled. "You're talking to me, right? And I'm a stranger."

What? She stopped dead in her tracks. _That's right! _She thought. Had she actually been carrying on a conversation? And with a stranger?! It was amazing. In all her middle school life, Hotaru had not uttered more than five words to anybody else. But now here she was talking easily with someone she'd only met for the first time not an hour ago! There was just something about Satoshi. It was like … like they had known each other for so much longer.

"Let me tell you something-" He paused, waiting for her name. She was surprised to find she hadn't told him already. She did then. "Don't change yourself for anyone, Hotaru. So what if you're quiet? That makes you special. And who cares if you don't have any friends –I'm sure you do, though – but even if you don't, who cares? You're so much more mature and enlightened than all the other kids here." He brought his face close to hers. "I've known you for this short a time and already I can see that."

They continued walking, which was hard for Hotaru because her eyes were tearing up. Such kind words… It wasn't so much what he had said -after all, Michiru had said much the same thing. But it was _how_ he said it. He'd actually sounded like he cared.

And the fact that it was a hot guy made a big difference too.

They reached the office all too quickly.

"Here we are," Hotaru said. She suddenly felt sad. She knew she'd never see this kind young man ever again, in all likelihood.

Satoshi nodded. He made a move to enter inside and stopped. The mysterious papers were still in his hands. He turned back to Hotaru. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fourteen," she said, puzzled. "Why?'

Satoshi shrugged and scrunched up the papers. Whatever they were, Hotaru hoped they weren't important.

"I _was_ going to ask you out," he said. "But 14 … that's kind of young."

Hotaru gaped. She stared at the handsome-faced 11th grader standing before her. Was this real? Was this really happening? No, she decided. It's a dream.

But if it was a dream, she might as well Go For It.

"Well, you said yourself that I'm exceptionally mature for my age."

"True, true."

Hotaru smiled and turned.

"Wait!" Satoshi called after her. "Is it a date or what?"

"It's a date," she said. "Definitely."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Saturday, 5:05 pm – the unofficial start of the Japanese weekend. And though it was either late afternoon or early evening (depending on how you looked at it), the skies above Tokyo were as black as midnight. The sun had longed since disappeared behind angry storm clouds. A fierce wind swept through the streets, turning over trashcans and blowing leaves off trees. The very air seemed thick and heavy.

Down below, Usagi kept one eye trained on the angry skies as she made her way to Makoto's apartment building. It looked like it was going to pour any moment. And there was nothing worse than being trapped outside, alone, in the rain. If only Ami and the others had stayed behind to keep her company. But Usagi had to stay behind and clean all the chalkboards in the school for punishment. What she did to deserve the punishment, she really couldn't say. It couldn't have been a big deal if she couldn't remember. Right?

Up ahead, Makoto's building loomed into view. She was going to make it! And then the bottom fell. There was no warning. One minute things were perfectly fine and the next, everything seemed to be under water. Usagi screamed and dug in her satchel for a weapon against the cold rain. All she could find was her Standard Calculus textbook, which she threw over her head to act as an emergency umbrella.

Soaked but otherwise unharmed, Usagi managed to climb the stairs to Makoto's floor and knocked on her door.

"It's open!" Came a voice from inside.

Usagi entered and, like always, was dumbstruck by Makoto's apartment. It was tiny, but the space was used efficiently. Trinkets and knick-knacks covered almost every square inch of the place, but it didn't look messy. The entire north side of the room was drowning in flowers. Several dozen potted plants created a virtual rainforest and hanging baskets suspended from the ceiling gave the appearance of thick tropical Tarzan vines. A couch was nestled somewhere beneath all of it, but like some secret jungle city, it remained allusive from view.

Smack dab in the middle of the room was a low table that Ami was sitting at cross-legged. Several hundred textbooks lay open before her, each one dealing with a new undiscovered subject. Usagi caught the title of one – _Non-Linear Photometry and Complex Atomic Equations._

Yeah… How was _that_ going to be useful in everyday life?

Ami glanced up from her reading when she heard the door close. "Finished with detention?"

Usagi couldn't help but detect the faintest hint of superiority in her friend's voice. "Yes," she said irritably as she wrung out her hair. "Every chalkboard in school is glistening clean thanks to me."

"Yo, Usagi! That you?" Came Makoto's voice from somewhere within the confines of the kitchen.

"Yep!"

"Make yourself at home! I'm making spaghetti for everyone."

So _that's_ what that smell was! Usagi felt her mouth watering like a dog. She knew good food when she smelled it. And Makoto's was the best. "Need help?" Usagi asked, inching her way to the kitchen. If she could somehow breech the kitchen, she could take an early sample.

Makoto laughed. "_You_ help _me_? In the kitchen? I don't think so. That sounds like a sure-fire way to get salmonella poisoning to me."

Geez. She didn't have to say it like that. Usagi sniffled and head back to the living room where Ami was having a conniption fit over her ruined math book.

"What IS this?! Usagi, what have you DONE?! It's destroyed! Dow you have any idea how much this textbook cost the school?! You're going to have to PAY for it, you know! Honestly! I can't BELIEVE this!"

Yadda yadda yadda. Usagi sat down next to the screeching Ami without so much as a second thought. They'd known each other for years and in that time, she had built up an immunity to her tirades regarding the sanctity of education. To change the subject, she glanced around the room and took everything in. The flowers, the darling little cushions scattered here and there – it was all so unbearably _cute_!

"Your place is so cool, Mako-chan!" Usagi gushed. "Did you get more plants since the last time I was here?"

Makoto walked through the kitchen doorway holding a large steaming pot of spaghetti with two gloved hands. She looked around the living room with a quizzical expression on her face, like she was taking it all in for the first time. Setting the pot down on a nearby whicker table, she said, "Yeah, but I had even more. I guess they died. I'll be lucky if these survive the next few weeks. The weather's been so weird lately."

Thunder rumbled outside as if in response.

"It can go from sunny to stormy in the blink of an eye. And when it does rain, it doesn't seem like the plants and all gain any nourishment. It's odd."

Yes, it was odd. But once Makoto had placed the spaghetti before her, Usagi's mind blotted all else out. She hadn't eaten since 1:00 and she was hungry. Beyond hungry. Starved!

She glanced about. Ami and Makoto were occupied with looking out the windows. Perfect. She sprung forward, taking the scooper from the pot with one had. Then, with one quick motion, she-

"USAGI!"

Curses! Ami. The girl must have eyes in the back of her head.

"But I'm soooo hungry. And besides, I don't think you have any say over when I can and can't eat. After all, it was Mako-chan who prepared this lovely meal for us. Therefore, it's her call." She turned to Makoto with the biggest and wettest puppy dog eyes she could muster. "Please, Mako-chan! Please! Just one tiny bite. I'm so hungry!"

It wasn't going to work. Usagi could tell. She had stopped being cute when she'd hit 17. Sure enough, Makoto was shaking her head. "Let's wait until the others get here."

Oh, well. If the ol' puppy eyes wouldn't work, maybe old-fashioned annoyance would. "Please! Just one tiny nibble! That's all I'm asking! A snippet! A little drop of sauce on the tongue! COME ON!"

"Usagi, is that any way for a future queen to act?"

Usagi jumped at the voice. It was deep and sounded nothing like either Makoto or Ami. She spun around to see Setsuna Meioh standing in the kitchen doorway where Makoto had just come from a moment ago. And yet, there had been just the three of them! Her hair and clothing weren't wet at all, which pointed to the fact that she'd been there all along, but…

Understandably startled, Usagi turned to Makoto. "Did you-"

She shook her head, looking equally surprised.

The faintest of smiles crossed Setsuna's lips as she took a seat on the floor next to Ami. With her long black hair, dark skin and black clothes, she really did look like a living shadow – capable of taking form and appearing when you least expected it.

"Setsuna!" Ami exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe Minako called a Sailor meeting, correct?"

A Sailor meeting? This was news to Usagi. As far as she knew, she and the girls were just getting together to study for finals. But then again, nobody ever told her anything.

The apartment door opened without so much as a knock and in came two more Sailors – Uranus and Neptune, in their civilian guises as Haruka Tenoh and Michiru Kaioh. They entered the room without a word and sat down at the table alongside Setsuna. They were almost like mirror opposites of one another. Haruka with her masculine-styled short platinum hair and easygoing manner was in sharp contrast to Michiru, the very personification of what it means to be a woman. Different, yes, but good for each other. It was like they were two sides of the same coin.

Michiru peeled off her wet trench coat and folded it elegantly on the floor beside her. She ran a hand up under her flowing wavy locks and gave her hair a quick shake, sending water droplets flying out from her head in a starburst. "What a lovely apartment you have, Makoto," she said. Even her voice was ladylike. Soft and unhurried.

"And how are you doing, Usako?" Haruka asked, winking.

"Fine," Usagi answered. "Just fine." Even though she knew Haruka was a girl, it was hard to forget sometimes. She radiated such an aura of strength and power. Just being around her made Usagi feel safe and secure.

Over at the head of the table, Ami was looking around with a confused expression – a rare sight indeed. "Usagi, Mako-chan, did you know anything about a Sailor meeting?"

They shook their heads. "I thought we were just going to study. If I'd known we'd have the whole team over, I would've made more spaghetti," Makoto said. She rolled her eyes. "But Minako's the leader and all, and the rest of us are just underlings who don't deserve to know anything."

"Our leader, huh?" Haruka snickered. "So where _is_ our dear captain?"

Before anyone could answer, the apartment door slammed open with all the force of a nuclear explosion and Minako flew into the room like a bat out of Hell. Artemis remained a few steps behind, not wanting to get trampled. "Here I am! Here I am! The meeting shall begin now!"

Ami folded her arms across her chest. "I thought this was going to be a study session."

"It will be, it will be," Minako reassured as she placed her schoolbag on the ground with a wet _squish_. "I just wanted to make everyone aware of a few things first." She looked about the room, taking a quick head count. "Hey! Where're Rei and Hotaru at?"

Michiru smiled that I-know-something-you-don't-and-isn't-it-so-amusing smile. "I can't speak for Rei, but Hotaru's out on a date."

Haruka stiffened visibly.

"A date?" Makoto exclaimed. "Little Hotaru? Isn't she kind of …young?"

Usagi slithered up beside her. "Jealous, are we?"

Makoto did not answer. Instead, she busied herself with serving everyone.

"I hope you'll find love one day, Mako-chan," Usagi said as she shoved in mouthful after mouthful of steaming hot spaghetti. "I wish everyone could be as happy as I am with-"

The door opened.

"MAMO-CHAN!!"

Usagi shot straight up out of her spot on the floor like some kind of crazed jack-in-the-box and leapt over the table in one graceful antelope jump. A great many people happened to be sitting between her and the door and were subsequently injured.

Mamoru had just gotten the door shut behind him when Usagi pounced on him, sending him crashing backward into the wall. A picture hanging nearby fell to the floor in a shattering of glass. And if the glass hadn't broken due to the fall, it surely would have thanks to Usagi's screaming.

"Mamo-chan! I don't believe this! We were just talking about you! How come you're here? Ooooh, I'm so happy!!"

Mamoru's lips drew up in what could've been either a smile or a grimace. "Minako called a Sailor meeting and asked if I could drop by. I'm …uh…. happy to see you, Usako. We don't get to spend enough time together."

"You got that right!" Usagi exclaimed as she led him by the arm to her spot at the table.

"It looks like everyone who's going to come already has," Haruka said.

"But before we begin, I think we should organize a bit," Ami said. She whipped out a pair of huge wire-framed spectacles and put them on. They looked way too big for her face and subsequently threw off her normally perfect features. "We only have a short while to get all of out studying done, so I propose the first 30 minutes shall be assigned to the Sailor meeting and whatever time we have remaining can be allotted for our studies.

Flashbacks were haunting Usagi as she watched Ami "manage time". Flashbacks of sitting at the very same table three years ago and studying the very same things to get into high school. She shivered. Those were some hard times. And not just because the Death Busters had chosen that particular time to invade Earth. It had been Ami. She was normally such a clam and quiet person but come test-time, she worked on a short fuse and took things a little _too_ far.

Now she was looking up at the wall clock with stern eyes. "Okay, Minako, you may start the meeting-" She watched as the second-hand passed the 30-minute mark. "Now."

Minako rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Anyway, I've been on the computer a lot looking for more gigs and-"

"What a waste of time," Makoto mumbled.

"No, it's not!" Minako's serene blue eyes went wild. "I'll have you know I landed a very important television role today!"

"What is it? Another low-budget soap?" Makoto laughed and flung herself onto Usagi. "Usagi, don't leave me! However will I go on without you?!"

"Mako-chan!"

"Usagi, my love! My dear!"

"Mako-chan!"

Usagi and Makoto fell over each other, laughing hysterically. Minako didn't share in their amusement. "It's a commercial."

Michiru leaned forward on her elbows. "What kind of commercial?"

Before she had the chance to reply, Artemis opened his fat mouth. "It's for a cellulite removing cream. 'Lilac Bliss'. Isn't that the name of it, Minako?"

The room erupted into gales of laughter. Maokto and Usagi were down for the count, their eyes drowning in tears. Haruka had one hand covering her mouth as she attempted to laugh and eat at the same time. A difficult task, judging by the bits of noodles that were hanging out of her mouth. Even the more demure members of the group couldn't help but chuckle. Setsuna's shoulders jerked quickly up and down, like she was trying to cover it up but wasn't totally succeeding. Even Michiru was finding it hard to keep a straight face.

"Can we _please_ just get back to the meeting?" Minako begged. She was trying to act nonchalant, but her red face gave away her true feelings.

After a few seconds and a few more snorts, everyone quieted down.

"Thank you." Minako bent over and withdrew something from her bag. It looked like more printouts. Only this time there were dozens of them. The stack she was holding in her hands looked to be about the size of a small novel. Without any words on what they were or what they were about, she passed the entire stack to Setsuna, who riffled through the pages quickly – her dark face growing more and more taunt the more she read. She then passed it to Ami, whose expressions mirrored those of the previous reader.

The papers went around the room like this. Everyone had the same reaction – an expression that was hard to read, but seemed like to be a combination of both puzzlement and dread. With each frown and sigh, Usagi felt her hear speed up a little more. And when it came her time to read, she was dreading what she would find.

She took the stack of papers in her hands and read.

Hurricanes, mudslides, tornados, bombings, shootings, kidnappings – each page was the front page of some newspaper, its headline screaming of natural disasters and those man inflict upon each other. Each page detailed some tragic death or another. Each page contained a full-color picture of the event, whether it be the torn and ruined houses that a tornado had torn through, or a bloodstained parking lot where the bodies from a shootout lay hidden under blue tarps. And stapled to each newspaper clipping was a prediction.

"These predictions were posted on different chat rooms all throughout the internet. They all follow the same format. Three lines, the first line predicts the event and location, the second line lists the death toll and in cases of hurricanes and tornados and other natural disasters – the power category of the storm. The third and final line tells us when the event is going to take place. The posts are usually made a week prior, but some were posted as many as two or three weeks ahead of the fact."

The room sat in stunned silence. Outside, the storm continued to brew. Rain slapped the windows. Lighting lit the skies in shades of angry blues and purples. Makoto's apartment, so warm and toasty a moment ago, now seemed as cold and gloomy as the city outside.

"And all these predictions were made by the same person?" Michiru asked.

"Seems that way," Artemis said. He hopped up onto the table so that Minako could scratch him. "They're all signed with a series of X's."

"An enemy," Haruka said. It wasn't a question. It was a fact. A statement.

Usagi shuddered at the word. Enemy. Could it be? She hoped not.

"Let's not race into this thing without knowing all the facts," Mamoru spoke up. He shifted his weight to a more comfortable position and frowned at Haruka from across the table. "Just because this guy posts these things, that doesn't mean he's an enemy."

"If this guy knows about these things in advance, why doesn't he stop them before hand?"

"Not all of us are Sailor Soldiers. He may be psychic but other than that, he's probably just a normal guy. And the fact that he posted these things to discussion boards indicates that he wants people to read them and do something about it. Maybe he's not in a position to help."

"But we are."

Heads turned as Minako walked to the front of the room where everybody could see her. She smiled – an act that seemed very inappropriate given the circumstances. "There is still a prediction that hasn't come true yet. Our psychic friend foretells of a shooting that is going to take place tomorrow night at the Tokyo Tower. According to him, by the end of the night, 34 people will be killed."

That terrible silence again. Only this time it was different. This time, there was a thin underlayer of hope beneath the stillness. It was written all over the faces gathered around the table. They knew that there was a chance they could prevent _this_ tragedy – that by preventing those 34 deaths, they could somehow make amends for all the warnings they missed. Everyone seemed excited about this chance to right a future wrong – except for one person.

Usagi flipped through the pages of disaster in her hands and picked out one at random.

_MUDSLIDE KILLS 200_ – the headline screamed out. The incident had occurred several months ago in India, without warning. The victims never had a chance to prepare. One minute they were going about their daily routines, and the next, they were dead beneath two tons of mud. Maybe it was better that way, though. Maybe it was better to die quickly and without regret. But still, it was shocking that disaster could strike at any given moment.

_Disaster could strike now_, Usagi thought_. Right here. In this apartment. And if it did-_

Suddenly, she didn't feel so good.

"Mako-chan, can I use your bathroom?"

Makoto didn't turn around from her strategy discussion with Haruka. "Sure. You know where it is, right?"

She did. Usagi got up on shaky feet and left the living room and the rising voices of her friends behind her. The bathroom lay at the end of the hall. Its door was open and the window inside was apparently uncovered by any type of shade. When the lightning flashed outside, the gloomy hallway came alive with a sudden fierce white radiance. That, coupled with the blasting thunder, made Usagi want to turn tail and run. But she couldn't. She had to _know_.

The bathroom was the last door on the right and Usagi entered it. She pulled the blinds down over the window – sealing off the storm outside – and locked the door. It wouldn't do if someone happened to walk in on her while she was doing this.

She sat on the edge of the tub and unhooked her transformation compact from the bow of her school uniform. It was a simple thing – a heart-shaped bauble made of some kind of golden metal. If someone happened across it at a yard sale, they probably wouldn't end up paying any more than 10 dollars for it. It didn't look like much to the naked eye, but its power and importance were beyond words. Saying the right incantation aloud gave it the power to transform Usagi Tsukino into the champion of justice, Sailor Moon.

At least it used to.

How long had she been in the bathroom? Five minutes? Ten? Too long, either way. She was just delaying the inevitable. The time was now. Usagi stood up and held the compact in her hands, begging and pleading for it to work. People were counting on her! Those 34 people walking blindly to their deaths needed Sailor Moon!

With her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach full of butterflies, she whispered the magical phrase.

"Silver Moon Crystal Power. Make-Up."

Several seconds passed before she had the courage to open her eyes. She looked straight ahead, avoiding the mirror at all costs. She didn't feel any different. The brooch remained in her hands. She was conscious of the long skirt of her school uniform brushing against her ankles.

No. It couldn't be! It had to have worked this time! Usagi peeked at the mirror. And almost broke down into tears.

Nothing had happened. Nothing at happened at all. She was still crybaby Usagi. In place of ribbons and angel wings, there was nothing but her old and tattered school uniform. The beautiful warrior Sailor Moon was nowhere in sight.

"No!" Usagi collapsed upon the cold tile floor. The transformation brooch –_ha, that's a good one_; she thought bitterly- struck the countertop with a metallic _ping_ and fell beside her. Then, with the crazed speed of a junkie reaching for her fix, Usagi grabbed for it and pressed it to her heart.

"Silver Moon Crystal Power! Make-Up!" Louder this time. Maybe the problem before was that she had just whispered it.

But no. Still nothing.

She tore open the cursed thing and inspected the Mystical Silver Crystal that lay within.

The Mystical Silver Crystal: the most powerful thing on the planet … no, in the universe. For countless generations, its perfect, pure light protected the solar system and the ruling family of the Silver Millennium, driving off evil and vanquishing darkness with its glory. A holy stone, its endless power was the conduit by which Usagi transformed. It gave strength to her weapons. It was how she had defeated all the enemies that stood in her way.

But now it was just a lump of glass. It exuded no power whatsoever. It was dead.

That shouldn't have been such a big deal, though. After all, Usagi, as Sailor Moon, had defeated Chaos – the source of all malice in the galaxy – at Sagittarius Star Zero over two years ago. And it had been made clear that Chaos had been the root of all the evil and hatred that the Sailor Soldiers had fought against. Indeed, all the previous enemies they had battled were, in fact, variant forms of Chaos. And now, with that evil beast defeated, everything was fine. There would be no more battles.

Right?

_What if_. That was the phrase that worried Usagi. Just suppose that something did happen. She'd be worthless. Sailor Moon had been the one to defeat the enemies – she along with the Moon Crystal.

Now they both were gone.

The earthquake before proved that Sailor Moon was still needed. This shooting that was supposed to happen tomorrow further validated that fact.

She had been Sailor Moon for so long, though. And now that she couldn't transform, she wasn't sure of her true identity.

The others couldn't know. They could never know.

Two long years the Silver Moon Crystal had remained dark. It was a sad fact, but an inescapable one.

The moon, that planet of love and justice had forsaken her.

Sailor Moon, the solider of sanctity, was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Geez, what took you so long? I thought you fell in!"

Usagi turned up the corners of her lips at Makoto. The brooch was back on her uniform and her eyes were clear and water-free. Looking at her, you'd never know she'd been on the verge of hysterics just minutes before. These past two years, she'd been mastering the art of "Putting on a Brave Face". It was surprising how easily it came to her. On the outside, she appeared to be the normal cheerful, sometimes lazy Usagi she'd always been. But on the inside…

Never mind that now. There were other matters to attend to. Usagi sat down at the table beside Mamoru and counted the faces of those around her. She came up three short.

"What happened to Haruka and the others?'

Minako hoisted her schoolbag up onto the table and began to stuff those terrible predictions back into it. "They left while you were in the bathroom. Michiru has a recording session early in the morning and she said she had to get plenty of shut-eye tonight to prepare. Haruka left with her. And Setsuna-" She snapped her fingers. " –just vanished."

"Oh." Usagi paused. She knew what she really wanted to ask, but wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. _Just be casual_, she decided. _As far as they know, you're still the Sailor you've always been._ "So, uh, have we decided what we're going to do about the, uh, shooting tomorrow?"

Her voice cracked in mid-sentence. She sounded like some adolescent boy on the verge of puberty. Then, on the heels of that thought, came the very clear image of Shingo's face floating to the surface of her memory. Odd.

But Minako didn't appear to have noticed anything. "Yep. We're going to be there tomorrow night and alter the course of the future!" She turned to face Usagi and when she did, she was struck by how happy Minako seemed. Her face was bright, her eyes were glistening. She just sounded so upbeat. And why not? She was fulfilling her destiny. She was doing what she was meant to do.

"But it looks like it's just going to be five of us. Haruka and the others aren't going to get involved. I guess they think that after stopping the Death Busters, the Dead Moon Circus, and Galaxia, one lone gunman is just too _ordinary_ for them."

_The five of us._

Usagi placed her hand over Mamoru's. He felt warm. She could feel the veins on his hand pulsating in time with his heartbeat. It was a good rhythm – strong and sure. His fingers automatically closed and wrapped themselves around hers. Soon, their hands were interlocked in the lover's outward symbol of union.

"Are you going too?" She asked him.

"If you want me to." He smiled. His eyes were so big and so blue. They were expressive eyes. Usagi could read right through to his soul by them. Mamoru was the type of person who didn't like to outwardly show his emotions, but that didn't bother Usagi. That was one of the things she loved about him. Because peeling through the tough exterior made getting to the soft core inside all the more rewarding. Besides, the eyes told all.

"I want you to," she whispered as she snuggled into Mamoru's narrow chest.

Something was wrong. It was obvious Mamoru knew something wasn't quite right from the way he stiffened at her touch. Maybe he had figured it out from the gloomy tone of her voice, or maybe it was the way she clung to him – like a drowning victim at sea might clean to a life preserver. He knew Usagi was troubled with something, but he didn't want to come right out and ask about it. There were more subtle ways of finding things out. So what he said was-

"How about we go out to eat after this?"

The dark could over Usagi seemed to dissipate at the prospect of a date.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Cool!" Usagi shouted, now back to her usual self. "I'm gonna take you up on that offer because, as you know, I've been Mamo-chan deprived for a long time!"

Ami made a series of not so discrete coughing noises. "Ahem. Now that we've settled everything we needed to settle, let's commence with our studies. Let's start with a little bit of calculus."

"But shouldn't we wait for Rei?" Usagi asked, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. "I really think we should wait for Rei."

"So do I," Makoto said.

"I concur," agreed Minako.

"Well, it appears that Rei won't be joining us tonight, for whatever reason. Now let's turn to page 130 and start with the work exercises listed-"

It was at that moment when Rei breezed through the door. She entered the room soundlessly and took a seat on the floor without any kind of greeting. Instead of the Catholic schoolgirl uniform she normally wore to these study meetings, she was still dressed in her red and white miko outfit. No textbooks or any other kind of studying material were visible.

"Hey there, Rei!" Minako exclaimed. "Hate to break it to ya, but you're kind of really, really late. We had a Sailor meeting while we were waiting for you."

"Sorry," Rei mumbled. But she didn't sound sorry. She sounded tired – and looked it, too. Her exotic raven hair hung around her face in long greasy clumps. All her facial features were pulled downward in a look of weariness. She looked like she was about five seconds away from falling asleep.

Ami slammed the textbook she'd been reading from shut with an authoritative _snap_. "Rei, you really are late. With finals approaching, you can't take these study sessions so lightly." Then her eyes trailed down her Shinto garb, growing ever larger as she came to a startling realization. "Did you … did you even go to school today?"

"No," Rei said. She tiredly pushed a wad of matted hair away from her forehead, all the while keeping her eyes downward.

The air between Rei and Ami seemed to sizzle with taunt electricity. The apartment remained dead quiet for what seemed like an eternity until the storm broke - via Ami's scoldings.

"What do you mean you didn't go to school today?! Rei, what's come over you? I realize you attend a private school and the teaching methods there might be different than what the rest of us are accustomed to, but I feel very secure in saying that attendance is mandatory! Am I right? Honestly! We're coming up on the end of the year and-"

Rei whirled around to face Ami. "Can I say something?" Her voice was as pinched as her face. It was clear she didn't appreciate being reprimanded like a child.

But Ami evidently didn't take note of the strained quality of her voice - or if she did, she didn't care, because she continued to lash into Rei. "No, you may _not_ say something! Here I am, doing you a service by agreeing to help you with your studies, and you repay me by arriving 40 minutes late! And when you finally _do_ decide to grace us with your presence, you tell me that you didn't even _go_ to school today!" She threw up her hands in frustration. "Why am I even here if you don't care?"

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!"

Everyone at the table jumped as Rei angrily shot to her feet. Her mouth had disappeared into a thin line. Fury shot from her eyes like daggers. If looks could kill, Ami would've certainly been pushing up daises.

"I was willing to explain the situation, but never mind now! I think it's clear that the only voice you're interested in hearing is your own!" She marched toward the door, her body rigid with rage, and made a grab for the handle. With a forceful push, the door was shoved open and she stormed out into the hall, but not before giving Ami another piece of her mind.

"You're such a bully sometimes, Ami! To tell you the truth, I'm amazed that you have any friend at all! Why don't you just go back to your precious books and extra-credit worksheets and leave the rest of us alone!"

Then she muttered something else – something that sounded like _Why did I even come? _But it was hard to tell for sure because the door slammed shut behind her, cutting off any further words. The explosion of wood in the frame made for the perfect exclamation mark to Rei's short but enraged speech.

Usagi was speechless. And so was everyone else. Everyone just sat there, squeezed around the table, waiting for something else to happen. Rei had been there for all of two minutes and in that short time, had succeeded with putting everyone's nerves on end.

Makoto was the one to break the uneasy quiet. "What flew up _her_ nose?" She turned a sympathetic face to Ami. "You okay? That was really uncalled for."

With a small nod, Ami stood up and began to quickly gather her books together. "Oh, that's alright," she said. "Hey, I don't feel very well. Maybe we can-" Her voice broke suddenly and she finished the rest of her thought in one big run-on sentence. "Maybe we can get together some other time because I just remembered a previous engagement and I don't really feel that great anyway so I guess we'll just finish this tomorrow okay?"

Before anyone could say anything, Ami slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and dashed toward the door. It was hard to be certain, because she left so quickly, but Usagi was almost positive she saw tears streaming down her face.

In a matter of mere minutes, they had gone from six people to four.

"Well," Makoto said stupidly, "I guess the study session's off." She was trying to keep her voice light, but it was clear she was worried about her two friends.

The four remaining stragglers said their goodbyes to one another and went their separate ways. Usagi and Mamoru walked hand-in-hand to the lobby of the building, and since it was still drizzling a little outside (the storm had for the most part moved on), Mamoru suggested she wait while he retrieved the car for her.

She watched him disappear into the dark world outside, suddenly unsure of the upcoming date. Truthfully – and Usagi found it hard to believe she was even thinking this– she wasn't in the mood. It had been a drama-filled evening, first with her transformation debacle earlier and then the Rei and Ami blowup. All she wanted to do was go home, hit the sack and put the whole day behind her.

What had made Rei so upset in the first place? It was so unlike her to blow up like that. Something had to have been troubling her. Rei was a lot of things - occasionally arrogant, distant, cold – but _volatile_? No way. Usagi hated the way Rei had launched into Ami, but she felt she could sympathize with her problem – whatever that may be. After all, wasn't she herself experiencing her own brand of secret worries?

A loud car horn snapped her out of her thoughts. Mamoru had arrived. Usagi once again used her trusty textbook as a makeshift umbrella and piled into the vehicle.

"Where to?" Mamoru asked as he pulled away from the curb. "I'll take you anywhere."

_Anywhere_? Usagi's eyebrows arched at this. He would regret saying that. "How 'bout that French place downtown? Chateau Landeaux."

One of Mamoru's eyes twitched spasmodically. "Wh-what?" He turned to look over at Usagi to see if she was kidding. She wasn't. "Do you have any idea how much that place charges?! Ten bucks for the drinks alone! And no free refills!"

"Oh. I see." The wet puppy dog eyes activated again. Hopefully, they'd work better with Mamoru than they had with Makoto. "When you said you'd take me anywhere, I took you at your word." Sigh, sigh. "I guess we can just eat at some crummy fast food place. Of course, we'll have to leave right after we eat because that type of food gives me serious gas and I'd rather go in my own home, _if_ you know what I mean."

Mamoru grumbled something and made a u-turn.

"What was that, dearest?" Usagi asked sweetly.

"I said 'you win'. You always win." He turned toward her and smiled. "I hate it when you look at me like that!"

Score one for the puppies.

As they drove, Usagi's mood improved dramatically. Dinner at Chateau Landeaux! She could hardly wait. What could be better than a nice romantic candlelit dinner with the man of her dreams? If she closed her eyes, she could practically hear the musical accompaniment that came with the meal. Yep, a date with Mamo-chan was just the thing to brighten her spirits. It was going to be heaven!

Heaven lasted right up until the time they saw a large "THIS SPACE AVAILABLE FOR LEASE" sign tacked over the elegant restaurant's front windows. The lights inside were off. The fountain out front was dry as a bone.

"Hey!" Usagi screeched. "What's the big deal? Why is it so dark?"

Mamoru continued past the darkened façade. "It's gone out of business. And with them charging ten bucks a drink, I'm not surprised."

"What?! B-but you didn't even slow down! How could you tell for sure?"

"Trust me."

And with that, the beautiful promise of a perfect date went up in smoke as the once-proud Chateau Landeaux disappeared in a cloud of carbon monoxide.

"Crown Fruit Parlor?" Mamoru asked.

He was already guiding the car in that direction anyway, so Usagi could do naught but nod. The Crown Fruit Parlor was little more than an after-school hangout and thus a poor substitute for the chic dining establishment she'd had been hoping for. But at least she could catch up with Unazuki - one of her friends that worked there as a waitress.

"It's the economy," Mamoru continued. "Things are bad and getting worse. There's no such thing as job security anymore. People are getting laid-off like crazy. We're heading for a recession of Biblical proportions." He parked the car and helped Usagi out. "You've noticed it, haven't you?"

Had she? As Usagi followed Mamoru into the fruit parlor, she made a point to look around. And what she saw scared her – bums on every corner, trash everywhere, run-down buildings standing empty along the street, looking like ancient haunted houses… It was shocking. Usagi didn't fully understand the big words Mamoru had used, like _economy_ and _recession_, but she did grasp the idea behind them: the city was in trouble. The fact that she'd never noticed it before made it all the more frightening.

The automatic doors to the restaurant whizzed open with a welcome blast of cool air and Usagi and Mamoru slid into a booth. They booth sat on one side of the table – the other side remained empty, like they were entertaining phantom guests. It all looked a little strange, but Usagi didn't care. She was with her man.

"Can I take your order?" Came a tired voice from overhead.

The waitress standing over them was one Usagi had never seen before. She had dark frizzy hair swept up into a bun, was a little on the portly side, and had a demeanor about her that seemed to say _I have better things to do with my time than serve you. _A far cry from friendly Unazuki, in other words.

"Yeah, I'd like the Super Deluxe Banana Boat Float smothered in chocolate syrup with a side of honey-roasted peaches. I'll have water to drink." Usagi smiled. This might turn out well after all. Where else could you get honey-roasted peaches? Certainly not Chateau Landeaux!

"We don't have bananas,' the waitress responded shortly. "Or chocolate syrup or peaches, for that matter."

Usagi began to tear up. She'd had her heart set on chowing down on the 1.99 Super Deluxe Banana Boat Float – available Monday through Sunday, kids eat free! What did she have to look forward to now?

Mamoru sensed a Usagi meltdown and attempted damage control. "I bet they have other things that are just as good!"

"The only thing we have are hamburgers. The truck hasn't come in yet," the waitress said, putting her hands on her ample hips. She didn't feel the need to elaborate on just what truck she was talking about. "Now are you gonna order something or what? I have other customers to worry about."

A quick glance around confirmed the Crown Fruit Parlor was deserted.

"We'll both have the hamburgers," Mamoru said.

With a huff and a puff, the snooty waitress jotted down their order and was about to dash off when Usagi asked if Unazuki was working.

"She quit. There just wasn't enough money to go around anymore." And with that, she was gone.

Usagi just sat in stunned silence. How could Unazuki quit? Didn't her family own the place? It didn't make sense. _There just wasn't enough money to go around_ – that had been the explanation given. Usagi found herself thinking of those dirty homeless people outside and saw Unazuki there among them, dressed in a raggedy old housecoat five sizes too big for her, her hair unwashed and smelling…

The economy. Was it really that bad? And if it was, who could be next?

"Poor Unazuki," Mamoru said. "I feel so sorry for her."

"So do I." Usagi took hold of his arm and pressed it against her. "But she can get another job somewhere else, right?" She hoped so. She wanted to believe that.

But Mamoru was already shaking his head. "I don't know." The way he said it was long and drawn out. He might as well have said _Are you kidding me? No way! She's doomed!_

"People just aren't hiring. Things are-"

"Bad," Usagi finished for him.

He nodded. "Not just here, but all over the world."

Economic frailty and regression – the invincible enemies. They were as real as any otherworldly villain Usagi had faced. But this time, the Sailor Soldiers could do nothing but sit back and watch as the world went to pot. How could you fight such a thing? This battle was one for the politicians to fight. It was up to them alone.

The drinks came after an eternity of waiting and the waitress galloped away before they had a chance to ask her how long the burgers would take.

Usagi frowned and brought the grimy glass to her lips. And stopped in mid-gesture. Something had caught her attention. She looked down, wondering what it could've been. Then she saw it. Her ring. The ring Mamoru had given her just before he had left (well, _attempted_ to leave) for America. The diamonds surrounding the heart-shaped stone in the center had caught the light.

She slid the band off her left hand's ring finger so she could inspect it.

It was beautiful. She had no idea how many carats were contained therein and she honestly didn't care. It had been given to her as a symbol of undying love and she wore it 24/7. Since that day two years ago in the airport, she'd never taken it off. Never. It was too important.

Important it was, but Usagi had no idea what exactly it _meant. _A symbol of undying love, yes, but was it a friendship ring? A going-away gift? Just one of those random tokens a lover sometimes gives for no particular reason at all? Or was it something more serious? At the time she'd received it, Mamoru was leaving for America to study abroad at Harvard. He'd given it to her and said, "Usako, when I return…"

It'd sounded like he was going to propose. But Galaxia had shown up then and attacked him, stealing his Golden Crystal and leaving his body to crumble into dust. Thankfully though, Sailor Moon had later been able to defeat the renegade Sailor and revive all her deceased friends. She then expected Mamoru to pick up where he'd left off – namely, with the proposal.

But in the two years since, the subject had never again been brought up.

Before she knew what she was doing, Usagi said, "Mamo-chan do you think we'll ever get married?"

He laughed. He laughed as if she had just asked the world's dumbest question. "Of _course_ we'll get married! We'll get married, you'll give birth to Chibiusa and together we'll rule Crystal Tokyo. It's already been decided."

Already been decided… She didn't care for the way he'd said that. It sounded like he was a prisoner headed to the guillotine but he wasn't going to fight it since _it's already been decided_.

"I was just wondering. I know what the future holds, but we have to _make_ it before it can ever come to be."

Mamoru laughed. "I never knew you were so deep, Usako. What's brought this on all of a sudden, hmm?" Then he caught sight of the ring and understood. His face went dark and he leaned over and swept Usagi up in his arms. "I love you, alright? Don't ever doubt that for a second. That day at the airport, I was ready to marry you. I would have right on the spot if I'd been able. And I still want to marry you. I want you for my wife. But-"

Ah yes. The infamous "but".

"-but right now I don't have the financial stability to make that kind of commitment." His lips brushed lightly against the side of her face. "I want to provide for you. I can't do that now. But I will. Mark my words, Usako. We _will_ get married. You have my word."

Usagi gave him a quick peck on the lips and settled back into her seat. She didn't understand. She didn't understand the whole business of "providing". If two people loved each other, they could make it work – no matter how much money they had. T least that's what Usagi thought. But she knew she was the dreamer of the pair. When it came to money matters, she trusted Mamoru. He'd make the right decision.

"I guess I can wait," Usagi said as she fiddled with the small silver hoop Mamoru wore in his left ear. "We know for a fact we'll be married in the 30th century. So if worse comes to worse, I'll only have to wait until the year 2900."

"It'll be worth the wait."

"I think so, too." Usagi slid the ring back to its proper finger. "Hey, since we're talking about the past and all, do you…" she paused. She didn't exactly know how to put the next question. "Do you ever regret not going to Harvard?"

He looked at her.

"I mean, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. You were all set to go and then Galaxia attacked. And now you're finishing up at KO University – which is nice, but I know how much you wanted to go America." She turned away and sipped at her drink. "I just don't want to be the reason one of your dreams goes unfulfilled."

Sighing quietly to himself, Mamoru patted Usagi's head the way a loving pet owner might pet his dog. "There's nothing I could do over there that I can't do right here. That was then, this is now."

The hamburgers arrived then and the two of them occupied themselves with the act of eating. The meat was dry and the buns were hard. The ketchup that was splattered on the dead cow looked and tasted like red glue. All in all, a pretty disgusting meal.

They had just finished (having eaten only two bites) and were discussing how much money, if any, should be given as a tip, when Mamoru tapped Usagi on the shoulder and pointed to the far end of the restaurant.

"Hey, isn't that Hotaru?"

Usagi looked in the direction he was pointing and sure enough, Hotaru was seated with her back turned to the door, far away from them. But that wasn't all. Closer inspection revealed she wasn't alone. She was with… it was hard to tell from this angle, but…. it looked she was with a _boy_! Could it be? Hotaru wasn't the most sociable person in the world. It was hard to believe she'd be out on the town by herself, let alone with someone else – a _male_ someone else! What could it all mean? And then she remembered. Hotaru had a date tonight.

Yes! Of course! Now that left the question of what her date looked like. It was difficult to see from Usagi's viewpoint. Hotaru was blocking the way.

"Let's go say hi!" Usagi exclaimed.

Mamoru grabbed hold of her skirt and pulled her back into the booth with a thud. "Just leave her alone, okay? Let her have some privacy."

"Come on, Mamo-chan! Aren't you curious? Admit it, you want to know what kind of guy has stolen the heart of our dear little Hotaru just as much as I do!"

"No I don't."

Usagi would not be put off. "Well, I'm going over there. This is a historic moment!" And she was gone before anything else could be done.

As she snuck closer, she was able to get a better look at Hotaru's mystery date. He was cute – not as cute as Mamoru, but then again, nobody was. Black, black hair, dark brown eyes, athletic build … she had certainly scored a whopper. And they were both sharing a milkshake! He and Hotaru were sipping from two straws thrust deep into the creamy mix, their eyes locked onto each other, never looking away.

How adorable!

"HI, LOVEBIRDS!"

Hotaru screamed and one flaying arm sent the milkshake crashing to the table. Her mystery man's quick reflexes managed to avert total disaster, however, and the day was saved.

"Usagi! What are you doing here?!"

"Well, I was in the neighborhood and I saw you …entertaining, shall we say… and I thought I'd come on over to witness the creation of a hot new romance!"

Hotaru tried her best to merge into the booth. Her face went from alabaster white to rosy pink, to cherry red and then to a sickly maroon color. After running through all the shades of red known to man, she nodded hastily to Usagi. "It was nice of you to come over."

"Nice try. I'm not leaving until I find out the name of fine gentleman here." Usagi bowed and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Usagi Tsukino."

The hand that shook hers was strong and firm. "Satoshi Yomata." He grinned. "So I take it you and Hotaru know each other?"

Usagi nodded. "Yep. We go way back. She's a good friend of mine, so you better treat her right, hear?"

"Usagi!" Hotaru's face was doing its prism thing again. It was fascinating watching it go through the colors of the rainbow. White with shock, red with embarrassment, and then green with sickness that Usagi would be humiliating her in front of her first (and probably last) date.

Satoshi didn't seem to mind. "I promise I'll take good care of her, Ms. Tsukino." He laughed good-naturedly. "Hey, isn't that a Juuban Senior High uniform?"

"Yes it is," Usagi said. She toyed with the dark bow attached to the blouse. "I like to think of it as a war medal sometimes. I never thought I'd get out of middle school. I'm in the 12th grade."

"We go to the same school, then. I'm an eleventh grader." He paused and cocked his head to one side. A frown settled over the lips. "I'm trying to remember if I've ever seen you before. I don't think I have. Which is weird, because you're very … unique."

Usagi beamed. "I'm hard to forget. My personality shines bright!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of your hairstyle. You don't see many girls walking around with … what would you call them? Buns? Rolls?"

"Buns. It takes a certain type of girl to pull it off."

Her eyes bounced back and forth between Satoshi and Hotaru. What a lovely couple they were! Who would've ever thought it? Hotaru with a boyfriend. It was the best thing for her, really. The poor girl was so quiet, so painfully shy. A senior high stud buying her milkshakes and taking her out on the town was just what the doctor ordered! Of course, they'd never be as happy or as perfect a match as Usagi and Mamoru…

A light bulb suddenly went off in the dusty attic that was Usagi's brain.

"Hey! Why don't you guys go on a double date with Mamo-chan and me?" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "See that guy over there? The one who's pretending _not_ to look like he's eavesdropping? That's Mamoru Chiba, my boyfriend. And fiancé." She threw that in at last minute. It was the truth. Well, maybe not officially. But it sounded good. "Come on! It'll be fun! The night's still young! Four is always better than two!"

Clearly, Hotaru wasn't as psyched about the idea as Usagi was. She kept looking down at her lap and squirming. The napkin she'd been holding had long since been torn to shreds. Actually, she'd gone through five napkins in that shame fashion since Usagi's unexpected arrival. The remnants covered the tabletop in tattered white strips like snowflakes. Or homemade kitty litter. Satoshi seemed to pick up on Hotaru's unease and saved the day for the second time in less than 15 minutes.

"That sounds like fun, but I've got to get back home. I lost all track of the time." He got up from the table and took hold of Hotaru's hand. With the debonair flair of a knight in a movie, he bent at the waist and lightly kissed it. " 'Til we meet again, my dear Firefly."

And then he was gone – disappeared into the night.

Usagi elbowed Hotaru in the ribs, producing a groan. "Love blooms!"

Hotaru gave her a look.

"_What_? I want you to know that I'm taking an interest in your love life. With the right coaching and expert tips from me, you and your Satoshi could be as happy as I am with my Mamo-chan!" Usagi smiled. "Isn't that right, Mamo-chan?"

Nothing.

"Mamo-chan?"

"I think he's gone," Hotaru said.

Hmph. Indeed he was.

"_Men_," grumbled Usagi.

…

After fifteen minutes of waiting for the bus and it not showing, Rei decided to walk home. The rain was long gone now but the skies overhead still rumbled occasionally with the distant afterthoughts of the storm. Dull burnt orange lights thudded against the far horizon. Heat lightning.

It was a long walk back to the Hikawa Shrine from Makoto's apartment building. Several blocks at least. She didn't know the exact distance. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Rei roamed the dirty streets with her head down, cursing the city's ineffectual public transportation system. On the surface, she was annoyed but she knew that some exercise would be good for her. She just needed to be doing something right now. The night air was crisp and damp after the storm's passing. The temperature had dropped considerably. It felt very pleasant. Not too warm and not too cool. Rei was glad now that she had missed the bus. She couldn't imagine being trapped up in that closed box on wheels. She needed to be out among nature now.

Only a few people were out and about. It was still relatively early, but most everyone had already decided to call it a night. The only other people Rei saw roaming the streets were little kids splashing their way from rain puddle to rain puddle.

She listened to them laughing with cynical ears. With time, those laughs and yelps would turn into the moans and sighs of adulthood. She watched them play and frolic with jealous eyes. Had she ever been like that? So uncaring and free? The answer came back a resounding "no". Even as a child, she'd been mature for her age. She had to be. Her mother had died when she was very young and her father, a politician, apparently decided that his career was much more important to him than raising his only child, so he abandoned her. At least that's the way she saw it. With her mother and father out of the picture, her grandfather raised her. Those were good times. Maybe not _great_ times - because with only the two of them working at the temple, things could get a little hectic – but it had been good enough.

Had been.

Now the good days were over. Or would be soon enough. Because grandpa was sick.

_Oh, just say it already!_ Her mind screamed silently. _Do you think that by denying the obvious, you're going to be able to change it?! He's not just sick! He's not just sick and you know it!!_

No. He wasn't just sick. It wasn't just a cold. He was…

"Grandpa's dying."

Saying it out loud was horrible. It seemed to put the final stamp on the situation. But it was true. It was true regardless whether or not she spoke it out loud or wrote it down on a piece of paper or just kept it to herself. He was dying. The only man she'd ever truly loved was dying. Slowly. Painfully.

Cancer, the doctors said.

That was why she hadn't been going to school lately. For the past few days, Rei had been keeping watch over her grandpa, fetching him a glass of water when he needed it or fluffing up his pillow whenever it went flat. He hardly ever got up from bed anymore and if he did, it was only to go to the bathroom. So it was Rei who had to take care of the day-to-day business. She had to keep watch over the sacred fire, keep the temple looking spic and span.

Rei felt a tear trickle its way down her cheek. She let it fall. She was… she was just so _mad_! Mad at the cancer, mad at her grandfather for leaving her alone, and mad at Ami for not understanding – not even giving her the opportunity to explain the situation.

Ami…

Boy, she had certainly made a mess of _that_, hadn't she? The things she had said to Ami were so hurtful. She couldn't remember exactly what she'd said, but she regretted them all the same. Ami was a great friend and teammate and Rei wished she could just call her up and apologize. But she couldn't. Her pride would prevent any such phone call from taking place. And she was still stressed out to the max. If she called Ami now, things might get out of hand and she would just make things worse. What she needed to do was go home and relax. Take a nice cleansing bath and go to bed.

Rei had been doing all this thinking with her head down and her eyes glazed over. So it was really no surprise when she looked about her and discovered she was lost. The street was deserted. There were no laughing kids here. And there was good reason for that.

She had somehow made her way to ground zero of the earthquake.

Or as close as she could get. Police barricades blocked the northern most part of the road. Rei found herself being drawn to the rubble and let her feet carry her there. The total scope of the destruction was so much more apparent at this close range. The street from the blockade onward was nothing but a mass of gray stones. Buildings lay toppled over themselves, looking like the toy blocks of a child who had tossed them down in a fit of rage. A few street signs and stoplight poles peeked out here and there amongst the chaos, bent at odd angles and leaning haphazardly. For some reason as Rei looked at this, she was reminded of something she had learned long ago in one of her history classes - Vlad Tepes was prince of Wallachia in the 15th century and was known far and wide for his cruelty. According to legend (and historical fact), in order to instigate fear into his enemies and keep his own citizens under control, he would impale the corpses of those he defeated in battle on stakes and set them about his castle. This also served as a warning for those foolish enough to even entertain the notion of doing war with Tepes. The warning was simple. _Stay away or else you'll suffer the same fate_. Several hundred years later, an Irishman by the name of Bram Stoker would go on to immortalize The Impaler as the inspiration for his vampire villain in the novel _Dracula_.

Why that seemed to ring a bell with the earthquake, Rei didn't know. Perhaps it was the way those poles and signs were sticking up, tall while everything else was crushed flat to the ground. Perhaps it was just too easy to imagine bodies skewered through them.

Rei shuddered. She turned away to make her way back to Hikawa Shrine, when she stopped. Something was holding her there. Something was calling to her… She knew she should be getting a move on. She'd already wasted enough time with this little side trip. But something wasn't right. She sensed….

Evil.

Yes. That was the feeling. As a miko, she had developed her senses to the finest degree and was able to rely on her Shinto teachings to seek and root out the source of such evil. As a Sailor Soldier, she had fought against it many, many times.

Yes. She knew evil well. And evil knew her.

The urge to investigate was strong, but Rei had to be careful not to rush into action. She could hear muffled voices coming from deep within the debris zone and could see flashlight beams moving steadily, bathing the wreckage in soft white light. Rescue workers. There was no way they'd just let her waltz in and take a peek around. If they even saw her _this_ close, they'd probably ask her to leave. And if asking nicely didn't work, they'd surely result to force.

Only one thing to do.

Rei moved deeper into the shadows and checked to see if the streets were still deserted. They were.

"Mars Crystal Power! Make-Up!"

First there was the great whoosh of a flame being ignited. Then the air around her began to wave and shimmer with heat. With a smile on her face, Rei closed her eyes and let the fire take her. She'd been doing this for four years now (though it seemed much longer), and she never tired of it. The feeling of having her blood being replaced with liquid flame was a feeling not easy matched. Everything else seemed trite by comparison. Nothing could compare to the feeling of your soul expanding and you becoming something and someone greater than your average everyday self.

Burning orange flames licked up Rei's body, devouring her red and white miko garb. Her long black hair flew upward with a hot gush of air and then fell back down to her waist in shimmering clean locks. With one final gush of sparks and fire, it was over.

The fire had engulfed Rei, blocking her from view. But when it died down, it wasn't Rei who emerged. It was Sailor Mars.

The voices in the distance were growing closer. Sailor Mars turned on her heels and sprung up into the air with the ease only a Sailor Soldier could posses. She landed gracefully on the roof of a dilapidated parking garage, a good ways into the debris zone.

The feeling of evil was closer now. More pronounced. In order to get a better grip on the vibrations, Mars let her eyes fall shut and her body go limp.

Blackness. Unnatural blackness. It was everywhere. The entire place reeked of it. It was a smell not unlike rotting eggs. The stench of evil. And there was something else behind all that. A truth. A truth that was forcing its way up. But what? What was it?

Mars' eyes suddenly flew open. That earthquake hadn't been natural. Somebody had caused it. Somebody had _willed_ it to happen! It sounded crazy, the logical part of Mars' brain knew that, but she couldn't deny what she was feeling. And when it came right down to it, she'd trust her instincts over logic any day.

The sprits were calling to her now. A hundred different souls. A hundred different voices. All screaming, all scared.

"Yes," she said. "I hear you. Tell me what you need to say."

They did. The dead spoke to her in whispers. They were telling her to look out. To be careful. Because… Because… Something was-

There!

Sailor Mars whirled around just in time to see a shadowy form take off on the ground. She leapt down from her perch and trailed the fleeing figure. Whoever it was was wearing dark clothes – maybe a black windbreaker? It was so hard to tell. She couldn't even be sure of height or gender. But one thing was clear: He (or she) was _fast_. Even with the extra speed advantage that transforming gave her, Mars still had trouble keeping up. She was falling further and further behind.

And that wasn't all. The spirits were telling her that she mustn't let him (or her) escape because he (or she) was the reason behind all this.

_Avenge us!_ They pleaded. _Don't let our murderer escape! Fight for us!_

Sailor Mars bit down hard on her lip and tried her very best to keep up. It was hard to do, though. She was almost chocking from the stink of evil. It lingered after the figure in a black wake.

"Stop!" She cried. "Halt!"

The fleeing shape didn't pay any attention to her.

It was way too fast! She was loosing ground! Drastic action was called for if she was every going to capture this person.

She came to a grinding halt and focused her power inward. The raging fire of Mars grew. It grew in both power and size. It seeped through her pores and ignited the air in front of her. The flames danced and snaked their way around her body like ribbons caught in a breeze. The power was so intense now. She didn't know if she could hold it in any longer. But she had to make sure she could take him (or her) down.

_You have some nerve, coming back to the scene of your crime like this_, she thought.

The sweat was rolling off her face. It was now or never.

"MARS!"

The fire swelled to attention.

"FLAME SNIPER!"

With a tremendous explosion, the fire snapped backward upon itself and took the shape of a bow and arrow. Sailor Mars aimed with both her mind and hands, commanding it forward, onward to the murderous coward in front of her!

The fire-arrow shot ahead, black smoke trailing out behind it. It was going much, much faster than the figure could run. There would be no escape.

"Eat this," Mars called. "Choke on it!"

The figure came to a sudden stop and turned around. "Heh, heh, heh."

What? Was it actually laughing?

"Heh heh HEH!"

It was! And with the arrow hurtling toward its face!

Sailor Mars felt a cold chill shiver run down her spine as she watched the arrow fly further and further away and closer and closer to its target. Almost there… Impact in five, four, three, two-

A flash of teeth in an insane smile. That's all Sailor Mars saw before the explosion.

There was a flash of black and purple light and _then_ came the noise.

_BLAAAAAMMM!! _

It was so loud. Deafening. It was like having front-row seats to a space-shuttle launch. Sailor Mars felt herself being flung up into the air by the shockwave. She landed back on the ground with a loud snap as her back twisted in an unnatural way. It wasn't broken, thank goodness. Just hurt. Bad.

With a groan, Mars shifted her weight to her hands and lifted her upper body off the ground. And what she saw sacred the fire out of her.

The figure was still standing. Not only standing, but laughing. Whoever it was threw back their head and bellowed into the cool night sky with the glee of a child. With one final gleaming smile, the dark silhouette turned and walked calmly away. And why not? He (or she – the gender was still undetermined) had deflected her strongest attack! How could that be? It was impossible!

Sailor Mars swallowed loudly and lowered herself back down into the rubble. She felt cold. She'd been defeated. Just like that. And her strongest attack … deflected like it was nothing! And if he could do that, he could've easily killed her. But why hadn't he? It made no sense.

A new enemy. It looked like the Sailor Soldiers would be needed again. And yet … and yet there had been something _familiar_ about that person's power. Mars had felt it in the split second between the flash of black and purple light and the explosion. Something familiar. But she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

"Evil," she muttered as she got back to her feet. "That's all I have to know."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Out of all the musical instruments in the world, the violin was, without a doubt, Michiru's favorite. There was just something special about the little thing. Whenever the bow slid across the four unsuspecting strings, magic was created. The music of the violin was ethereal. Sometimes the tunes were sad and haunting. Other times, they were light and festive. You just didn't know what you were going to get.

Even now in the cramped recording studio, with those bulky headphones over her ears, Michiru didn't know what to expect. She just applied bow to string and let the magic happen. And it did. The microphone overhead caught ever bit of it. It was a steady, quiet number that inched in and retreated like the waves on a beach. A love song without words, a love story without voice. Neither the violin nor Michiru produced the dreamy melody. Rather, it seemed to bubble up from the formless ether with a will of its own. The violin simply housed the music's power and Michiru was able to coax it out of the instrument with her fingers and a few slides of the bow. She was nothing but a medium.

After three minutes of coaxing, the tale was finished and with a final flurry of notes, Michiru lowered both her head and violin and smiled up at the microphone sadly. It was always a little hard to end a song. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend.

"Great! That was just great!" The door to the studio opened and Michiru's American agent exited the control room with a huge smile on his face. He clapped his hands and bowed. "That was the best one yet. This CD's gonna be a hit! It's gonna smash all the records!"

Michiru had to grin at her friend's enthusiasm. She didn't think it was going to be a _hit_, nor did she think any of her songs would _smash_ any records. People's taste in music nowadays tended to fall somewhere between teen girls dolled up to look like prostitutes simulating sex acts up on stage with some lip-synching thrown in for good measure or those hideous boy bands with their ridiculous hair and studio-created personalities. But that didn't bother Michiru. She had her own loyal following of fans. They were small, but they knew good music when they heard it. And Michiru was a true artist. This basically meant she created art for art's sake, with the money being a nice bonus. This was cliché, to be sure, but in her case, it was fact.

"Thanks, Scott." She lowered the violin into its padded case and latched it shut. "I'm sure it will be."

"Can I buy you a drink or something? We should celebrate!"

"No, thank you. I plan to go straight home."

"Well, can I drive you home? Can I at least do that for you?"

With a polite giggle, Michiru patted Scott on the shoulder. "No, thanks. Haruka will be picking me up." She looked through the glass window ahead and at the clock on the other side. It was 3:30. "As a matter of fact, she's probably already here."

The two of them shook hands and said their goodbyes. Michiru waved to the ghostly faces on the other side of the window and took off. Outside, the sun was shining brightly and it was almost miserably hot. Odd, because earlier in the day the temperature had been in the low 40's. Such weird weather. Michiru shed her coat and looked about for Haruka. The street was deserted. That was strange. Hadn't they agreed to meet outside the studio at 3:30? Yes. She was sure of it. But where was Haruka? It wasn't like her to be late.

Sighing, Michiru put her violin case on the ground and leaned up against the building. It was so _hot_. At least the day was almost over. Night would bring cooler temperatures. Cooler temperatures and…. That prediction. Thirty-four deaths at the hands of a shooter atop the Tokyo Tower. Wasn't that what Minako had said?

And there it was, dwarfing all else, a lofty edifice of gleaming red steel – the Tokyo Tower. It was the unofficial symbol of the city and was a recognizable landmark from any viewpoint. It stood now peacefully keeping watch over the other buildings around it. Everything was fine now. The tourists were strolling happily along the two observation decks, the sky was blue, the sun was out. But just knowing that later on tonight it would be the scene for a bloodbath – it was chilling. It was scary knowing the future ahead of time, seeing places and things differently in the present because of the events that would change those same things in the future.

But the Sailor Soldiers were going to take care of that. They were going to change the future. Michiru had perfect faith in Ami, Rei, Makoto, Minako, and Usagi.

So she didn't have to worry about _that_. But where in the world was Haruka? Michiru was beginning to get worried. She had just decided to call her up on her cell and was actually dialing the number, when the loud roar of a superfast car exploded into the air around her. It was the unmistakable scream of Haruka's prized custom Ferrari. A bit late, but the old saying was true – better late than never.

Michiru picked up her case and stepped forward, assuming Haruka would pull out in front and offer curb service. But that's not what happened. Instead of pulling up, the car rolled to a stop several yards down the street. The engine revved a few times and then cut off. The driver's side door opened and Haruka emerged, wearing a bright red leather jacket and a smile on her face. Michiru was about to extend her arm in a wave, but the gesture was halted with the opening of the passenger door.

A young girl got out.

Gasping, Michiru plastered herself against the side of the building and peered out from behind a corner. The girl was pretty and blonde and probably not any older than 16. And a stranger. She also was suffering from a sudden attack of the giggles. Haruka offered a hand to the girl and she took it and hauled herself out of the low-seated car.

"Thanks!" Her voice could be heard quite easily, even from such a distance.

"No problem." Haruka was laughing and massaging the girl's shoulders. "How'd you like the ride?"

"Scary", was the ditzy reply. "You were going sooooo fast!"

"It's the only way to fly," Haruka replied. She then winked. She actually _winked_ at the chick! Now _that_ was unacceptable!

"Thanks for givin' me a ride," the girl said. Her eyes were fluttering so much; it looked like she was trying to lift up into the air with them like a helicopter.

"No problem."

The girl twiddled her fingers in a good-bye wave and started off down the street. Once she had gone about six steps, she hesitated and turned around.

_Keep walking, sweetheart_, Michiru thought. She glared at the little schoolgirl with contempt. Her teeth ground against each other in fury. Apparently, the mystery girl had received the telepathic suggestion and she disappeared down the road, skipping like a mental patient.

Meanwhile, Haruka had already gotten back inside the car and was guiding it toward the studio. Michiru took a few steps backward to make it seem like she'd just gotten out. The car stopped and she got inside, slamming the door behind her. The interior smelled like bubblegum.

"Hey," Haruka said. "Go easy, will ya? You about took the door off!"

Michiru said nothing.

Affair. That was the word that kept popping to mind. It was blinking on and off in her mind like some big, bright obnoxious motel sign. Though technically not accurate (Michiru and Haruka weren't married, after all), it seemed the most fitting word to describe the little repartee that had taken place just now. Affair.

"So how'd it go?" Haruka asked.

Michiru didn't bother with a reply. She just felt so much anger! But why was that? Why was she so upset over a little harmless flirtation? She really had no right to get mad at Haruka. That was simply who she was – she flirted a bit with random girls, teasing them and cracking little jokes – but when it came down to it, she was faithful. She was. Really. Probably.

A stoplight caught them.

Haruka turned in her seat. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes," Michiru gripped the handle of her violin case tightly. Her knuckles drained of color. "But nothing compared to the fun I'm sure _you've_ been having."

"What?"

Red turned green, but the car remained motionless.

"Light," Michiru said.

The car eased forward. Haruka cast a confused glance over at her passenger. "What's wrong? You seem…."

"Never mind. Just drive, okay?" The interior of the car shimmered suddenly and it took Michiru a while to realize she was crying. She turned away quickly to hide the falling tears. "Just drive."

…

Considering it was a Sunday afternoon, the high school was still pretty full of people. Kids and teachers roamed the halls, making their way to club meetings and athletic practice. Hotaru walked among them all with her head held high. She knew everyone was probably staring at her and asking themselves _Who is she? Have I seen her before? _But she didn't care. Let 'em look. This was a new and improved Hotaru, full of strength and confidence. And it was all thanks to a little emotion called love. Yes, she loved Satoshi. Her feelings for him had moved way pass "like" long ago.

"Long ago"? That was funny. They'd only known each other for a few days, and yet it seemed like an eternity. Maybe that's what true love felt like. And boy, was she _in_ _love! _She doubted even Usagi and Mamoru – the poster couple for a perfect romance – weren't as happy as they were. Hotaru and Satoshi. Together forever. It had a certain ring to it.

The smell of chlorine hung thick in the air even before she'd made her way down to the actual pool area. It came drifting up in sour waves and Hotaru followed the scent like a bloodhound. Led by her nose, she took a flight of steps down and found herself in a long, dark hallway. A set of large glass double doors loomed up ahead and beyond that, the high school pool.

Hotaru pushed the doors open and entered a huge white titled room. Multi-colored banners had been strung from the ceiling over the Olympic-sized pool. Gigantic posters proclaiming "Juuban Senior High" took up one entire wall. Three, not one, but _three_ diving boards of differing heights stood guard over the left side of the water. Hotaru was officially impressed. It looked like some ritzy country club!

The place was empty. Nobody was around except for Hotaru and whoever was splashing around in the water. The mystery swimmer swam beneath the surface like a torpedo, completing lap after lap at an astonishing speed. Hotaru smiled and clapped her hands together in a little impromptu cheer. The swimmer came to a halt and popped his head up like a curious otter or something.

"Way to go, Satoshi!"

He grinned and paddled over to a nearby ladder. With a _whoosh_ of water, he flung himself up out of the pool and onto the tiled surface with Hotaru. He was naked except for two things – a pair of swimming goggles that he promptly lowered, and a sung blue Speedo, slung low on the hips.

_Kill me now_, Hotaru thought as he moved closer. _I don't care anymore. Just kill me now._

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" Satoshi asked as he picked up a towel and dried his hair with it.

"Um. No. No." She watched him bend over a scoop up a stopwatch from the floor. He looked at it for a few seconds and depressed a button. "Did you … did you get a good time?"

He shrugged. "Good enough. If coach is happy, I'm happy." He flung the towel behind his neck and held onto the ends with both hands. Even practically naked with nothing but a skimpy bathing suit keeping the bits and pieces in check, he seemed just as much at ease as he ever had. Had the roles been reversed, Hotaru wouldn't even have had the courage to get out of the pool. But maybe that was why they were so good for one another. The shy, quiet middle schooler and the smart, popular senior high stud – they complimented each other just as night complimented day.

"Well," Satoshi said, "I'm going to go and take a quick shower and change and then we'll be off. Okay?'

For one crazy moment, Hotaru thought he would suggest that they sponge off together. But he didn't. He just smiled that mysterious smile and headed off in the direction of the boy's locker room.

_It's sad to watch you walk away. But I do so enjoy the view._

That thought took Hotaru by surprise. It was so unlike her to be thinking these things… To be having these feelings. It was almost like there was a new person inside her – an independent woman ready to step out into the world and face its challenges. She liked this new person, this new Hotaru. She didn't want to loose the feeling.

A few minutes later, Satoshi emerged from the locker room dressed in khakis, a white and blue plaid button-down shirt and a blue tie. Hotaru couldn't help but burst out laughing. "A tad overkill, don't you think?"

Satoshi winked and adjusted his tie. "I just want to make a good impression."

"You will, you will." Hotaru linked arms with him and slung her hair away from her face with one quick movement of the neck. "Well, darling, shall we be off?"

"Let's."

The two of them left the pool area behind them and made their way through the school. Hotaru felt insanely glamorous and sophisticated with Satoshi on her arm. The only thing she wasn't so sure about was how this meeting was going to go. Satoshi was a nice guy, but how were _they_ going to respond to him? Setsuna wouldn't be a problem. She'd probably say her how-do-you-do's and fade back into the shadows. Michiru would be all smiles and greet him in a polite manner, keeping her true feelings a secret until he walked out of the door. Haruka would… Would… Well, that was the real question, wasn't it?

The temperature had dropped again and the air outside actually felt good. The birds were chirping and the sun seemed to stay hidden behind the same cloud, keeping things below cool. Things were so pleasant that Hotaru decided to learn more about her mysterious boyfriend on the way to the bus station.

"So," she began, "You're on the swim team?"

Satoshi nodded. "Yep. Swim team now, American football earlier in the year."

"Have you heard of Michiru Kaioh?"

At that, Satoshi's eyes went wide with recognition. "Have I heard of her? Are you kidding? _Everyone's_ heard of her! She broke every swimming record there is! She's a _legend_ at school." He chuckled. "Some people don't even think she ever really existed. They think coach made her up. Like Santa Claus."

Hotaru had to laugh. The lovely and classy Michiru being compared to old fat Santa? Now there was something you didn't hear every day. "Yes, she's real. And you're going to meet her tonight."

Satoshi blinked. "You don't mean..."

"I do."

"Oh great." He wedged a finger in between his collar and the skin of his neck. "Suddenly I don't feel so good."

Hotaru have him a pat on the hand for reassurance. "You'll do fine."

The two of them walked on, enjoying the day for all it was worth. There was no telling how long it would last. It could all change without a moment's notice. In time they arrived at the bus stop. It was deserted except for the two of them. Thinking it would be a while until the bus arrived, they began to talk. Subjects included movies, TV, books, poetry, sports – anything and everything. It felt so good to just be able to relax and open up to someone, to just be able to yak without caring where the conversation was going or how you sounded. In fact, Hotaru was having such a great time that she didn't even realize she'd been waiting for the bus for half and hour.

"What's taking so long?" She asked finally.

Satoshi shrugged. "In an effort to cut down on spending, the city's suspended all public transportation services. It was on the news last night."

"You're telling me we've been waiting here for no reason?" Hotaru was flabbergasted. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Maybe I just enjoy being with you."

_Good answer_, Hotaru thought.

Since the buses were no longer running, it was decided that they would simply walk the rest of the way. It was going to be a long stroll, but neither of them minded. Hotaru led the way. The weather was only mildly balmy and the topics of conversation endless. As the two of them walked, the high-rise office buildings that comprised the city became few and far between. Greenery, a sight so rare in the bustling metropolis that is Tokyo, became more and more pronounced. And then, quite suddenly, civilization was gone. Anything resembling a road had long since vanished. Trees replaced skyscrapers. The effect was so startling it seemed as though time had somehow doubled back upon itself and was now revealing the Tokyo of a hundred or a thousand years prior – back when nature itself comprised the total population. The hands of man and the works of iron and metal that they created were nowhere in sight.

No, wait. That wasn't quite true.

There, in the middle of a small clearing, was a house. It stood peacefully there, blending in perfectly with its surroundings. Seeing it there, smack dab in the middle of a forest, it was easy to assume it was some mythical fairy dwelling or a mirage of some kind. But it wasn't. To Hotaru, it was simply _home_. She saw it everyday. This was from where she left every morning to attend school and where she returned to once the day of education was over. Satoshi, however, was quite impressed.

"Wow. Big house," was all he could say.

It wasn't big. Not really. It was simply different from the identical city office buildings and cookie-cutter urban housing. _This_ house, this magical woodland dwelling, stood a small three stories high with a stumpy tower extending from the roof. A porch encircled the first floor, complete with hanging ferns and a swing positioned along the far right. Although there was no driveway or walkway (which came as no surprise - ripping up the ground and pouring in cement to make one would've upset the delicate balance between the house and the surrounding forest), a car was nevertheless parked helter-skelter to the left of the home. A light blue Ferrari. That could mean only one thing: Haruka was home.

Hotaru felt her heart rate increase. If only he didn't have to meet all of them! She looked over her shoulder at Satoshi as she ascended the porch steps. He seemed to have gotten over his intimidation and was smiling now. Oh, well. It was _his_ idea to have a family meet-and-greet. Though after meeting Haruka, he might come to regret that decision.

The front door was unlocked as it always was, and Hotaru entered inside with Satoshi hot on her heels. Once the door was shut behind them, they both slipped out of their shoes and into a pair of slippers that had been conveniently placed by the entrance. The foyer – although the word _parlor_ would've been more appropriate to describe the entranceway in a house so nicely decorated – was blessedly empty. Hotaru could breathe a sigh of relief at that. No sense in showing off her boyfriend too soon. An impressive oak staircase led up to her room on the second floor, but she wanted to check the rest of the house first. She thought it a good idea to see where Haruka was hiding and avoid her until absolutely necessary.

An open set of doors off to the right led to the living room and Hotaru entered in hesitantly. The living room was the largest room of the house, taking up the entire length of the house's east wing. And thanks to Michiru's excellent decorating skills, the most nicely furnished. Cleopatra-esque couches dotted the area, along with loveseats, chesterfields, and massive padded armchairs. These were all arranged into little conversation groups in much the same way a hotel might place its lobby furniture. The windows were all floor-to-ceiling, with heavy draperies flanking the glass on each side. Everything in the room, from the lamps providing light, to the throw pillows on the sofas, to the carpet itself, looked very pricey – and probably was. When you live with a famous racecar driver and a violinist of international renown, money was not a problem.

The room looked empty, but on second inspection, Hotaru saw Setsuna hunkered down over her computer in the corner. Dressed entirely in black, as usual, any eye could've assumed her to be part of the room's shadows and passed over her. Maybe that's what she wanted – not to be seen nor talked to, to be able to do as she pleased. Who knew? Who could tell what the enigmatic Sailor Pluto was thinking?

Setsuna hadn't looked up from the screen since Hotaru and Satoshi had entered, but Hotaru figured the time was now. Best to get it over with.

"Setsuna-Mama?"

She turned around. She opened her mouth to greet Hotaru, and it remained open in an awkward O as her eyes moved over Satoshi.

"This is Satoshi," Hotaru said. She motioned for him to move forward. He did and shook hands briefly with Setsuna. And then came the time for her to explain who he was in relation to her. Hotaru swallowed. "He's my boyfriend."

In an almost comical way, Setsuna's eyes expanded to twice their normal size. They bulged out from their sockets in shock, surprise, and disbelief. She looked so stupid, sitting there with that dumb expression on her face – and for one horrible moment, Hotaru was _glad_. She was glad she had finally gotten one over a member of the Terrible Trio. She wanted to smile and put her hands on her hips and shout out: "See? I'm not like you! I want a life! And by George, _I've got one_!!"

But she didn't. What she did say was – "Setsuna's a nurse over at my old elementary school. And when she's not kissing boo-boos and owwies, she spends the rest of her time as a scientist."

Something seemed to resonate with Satoshi. "A scientist? What kind of science?"

Setsuna still seemed taken back. "Um, astronomy mostly."

"No kidding! I'm in the astronomy club at school. Maybe you can come and speak at one of our meetings."

A small nod was all Setsuna could manage. She pressed a button on the computer keyboard and the screen went dark. "We'd better wash up. Dinner's about ready." And with that, she got up out of her seat, took one final look at Satoshi and another at Hotaru as if to ask _Is this for real?_ and then disappeared into the dining room.

Hotaru felt the need to apologize for the cold reception. "Sorry about that. Setsuna-Mama's just … shy." Yes. Shy was as good a word as any. "You hungry?"

"Starved."

That was the right answer. Hotaru took Satoshi by the hand and led him to the dining room. Like the living room, it was immaculate. The walls were covered with a felt-like material that depicted hummingbirds sucking the nectar out of various flowers. The windows here were stained glass and with the sun setting fast in the sky outside, the room was plunged into a dizzying array of blues, purples, and reds. Setsuna was already seated at the circular table and Hotaru joined her along with Satoshi.

Apart from a gorgeous centerpiece of freshly cut roses, the table was devoid of anything else. No plates had been set out and there was not a fork or knife present. Odd. And what was odder still was the silence coming from the kitchen. Usually, with it being this close to dinnertime, the kitchen was the scene of a controlled chaos as Michiru prepared a four-course meal for everyone. Usually. But not tonight.

The three would-be diners sat in nervous quiet, awaiting a meal that might not arrive. Setsuna occupied herself by twirling a strand of black hair around her finger endlessly, while Satoshi simply took in his surroundings with an open mouth. Hotaru, meanwhile, sat in her chair with clumps of tablecloth wound into two clenched fists. What was taking so long? What was the matter?

Just then, the sound of a door slamming shut could be heard echoing from upstairs. Then came the pitter-patter of footsteps descending the stairs. Haruka. Hotaru knew this from the sound alone. The feet were quick and hurried. Haruka was always in a rush.

Sure enough, her voice called out from the landing. Hotaru felt lightheaded all of a sudden. "Sorry about dinner, you guys. But Michiru-"

She entered the dining room and stopped in mid-sentence. Her eyes immediately latched on to Satoshi. Vulture's eyes. And Satoshi was the soon-to-be road kill. "-but Michiru's not feeling that great." The rest of the sentence came out forced and somehow cold. Haruka moved inward, her body turning and rotating, allowing her to navigate the room, but her head remained stationary – always facing Satoshi. He was a viper, as far as she was concerned. A viper out to get Hotaru. It was funny, in a way. Haruka had been the one to tell Hotaru she needed to get out _there_ and make new friends. And now that she had, she was acting so weird.

Apparently she hadn't meant _boy_friends.

Haruka, not being one for needless pleasantries, cut right to the chase. "Who are you?" She asked, her eyes still locked on Satoshi.

Hotaru felt her world crumbling around her. Haruka had _that look_ on her face. The look that meant playtime was over and it was time to get down to business. Hotaru hated that look.

"Haruka-Papa, this is-"

Haruka held up a silencing hand. She wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, it seemed.

Satoshi rose from his seat and put forth a hand. "Hi. Satoshi Yomata."

The atmosphere was unbearably tense. Haruka continued to stare down The Strange Boy with an icy glare. The hand went unshaken. Not a word was spoken for what seemed like an eternity. Then came the words, "So what are you, Hotaru's boyfriend or something?"

It was a challenge. As simple as that. Hotaru could do nothing but put her hands over her eyes and hope for the best. Through webbed fingers, she could see that Haruka was still standing there like a giant. She seemed to take up the whole room. Satoshi was nothing but a speck of dust. There was no way he could win.

But incredibly enough, he rose to the challenge. "Why, yes," he said. "I am." Those four words combined to create the only sentence in the world that could catch Haruka off-guard. They were spoken without hesitation and with pride, but not in a haughty manner or in any way that would suggest Satoshi thought himself any better than anyone else.

Defeated, Haruka hitched up her pants and let out a grunt. "Hmph." With her head held high in the air, she faced the other two people seated at the table. "Michiru's sick or something. Won't come out of her room. That means _I_ have to come up with something, I guess."

What she came up with were four bowls of cereal. Not quite the exquisite dinner the house was used to. Setsuna ate quietly and kept to herself. Hotaru, who had been starving, suddenly found herself without appetite. She just sat there at the table exchanging nervous glances between Haruka and Satoshi. Haruka had her chair pulled far out from the table and sat watching Satoshi, waiting for him to screw up in some way so that she might proclaim him unfit to be Hotaru's boyfriend. Her bowl of Fruity Mixx remained untouched. Satoshi however, ate happily as if nothing was the matter. There was just an aura of confidence about him. Hotaru was proud that Haruka's unwelcoming manner hadn't upset him in any way. Or if it had, he wasn't showing it.

About halfway through the hell that was dinner, he looked up from the cereal, wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you Haruka Tenoh?"

Hotaru blushed, suddenly aware that she hadn't introduced them yet.

"Yeah," Haruka muttered. "So?"

"_So?! _So you're a famous racecar driver! I wasn't sure at first, but now I'm positive! This is kinda embarrassing to admit, but I still have posters of you all over my room. My walls are covered in 'em! Needless to say, I'm a huge fan."

Haruka remained unfazed by the barrage of compliments.

"And is that your car parked outside?"

At this, Haruka perked up. "Yeah, it's mine." Her voice remained unfriendly, but now it was only cool instead of frigid.

"A Formula F512M. Right?"

An affirmative grunt was Satoshi's answer. Even though Haruka was still short on words, it was clear she was interested. Her posture proved as much.

Satoshi went on. "Wow! Four hundred and thirty-two horsepower! Twelve cylinders!" He shook his head in amazement. "What's the top speed on that thing?"

"196," Haruka replied. "205 if I really push it."

"Wow. Oh, wow." Satoshi let out a whistle of astonishment. "Hey, I would kill to get a close-up look at one of them."

Haruka got up, sighing dramatically. It was fake, though. The glint of pride and pleasure was clearly evident behind her eyes.

"Oh, that's okay," Satoshi said. "I don't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"Do you want to see it or don't you?"

The answer was yes, and the two of them walked toward the front door together. And… Was that a smile on Haruka's face? Yes! A grin or an amused smirk, true, but a smile to be sure. Hotaru couldn't believe it. Satoshi had found the one subject that could melt Haruka's heart: go-fast cars and the parts that lived inside them. Incredible.

From the other side of the stained glass window, a purple Satoshi and Haruka moved across the yard and stood staring at the Ferrari as if it were some kind of sacred idol. Then, to both Hotaru and Setsuna's surprise, Haruka actually popped the hood and let him take a peek at the engine and all those impressive cylinders.

"I. Don't. Believe it." Hotaru stammered.

Setsuna shrugged. "Boys and their toys."

When they finally did come back inside, a hefty 30 minutes later, Haruka was filling Satoshi in on a Grand Prix win of hers a good three years back. He was taking it all in with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"So there I was, the finish line in sight and this dude comes flying in behind me, riding my draft, thinking he can use me to get to first place. Well, I slam on the brakes and he gets a grill-full of custom Tenoh tender and goes swirlin' all over the track! I cross the finish, cameras flashing away, with a good twenty car lengths between me and the loser in second place."

Satoshi let out a gasp. "Extreme."

"No joke." Haruka slapped him on the back snapped her fingers at Hotaru.

She arose from her seat and joined the two of them.

"Now listen," Haruka said. "You're a nice young man, Satoshi, but don't assume for one instant that I don't know what you're after. Booty."

Hotaru was humiliated beyond imagining. "Haruka-PAPA!!"

Haruka laughed. "It's true! All men are the same, no matter their ages. Aren't they, Satoshi?" She laughed again and waved off any reply. "Never mind. I already know the answer. Just know that if you even think about getting into my Hotaru's pants, I'm going to have me a nice set of Satoshi kneecaps to hang over my fireplace. Got it?"

He put his hand over his heart. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

Smiling, Satoshi checked his watch and pulled Hotaru close. "Got to go," he said. He turned to Haruka and Setsuna. "Nice meeting you guys!"

They waved goodbye.

"I'll walk you out," Hotaru said.

The two of them walked hand-in-hand to the front door. It came all too quickly. "I'll walk you to the porch," Hotaru offered, as she opened the door and stepped outside.

The air was alive with crickets and other night noises. The sun was disappearing fast below the treetops in a bloody red mess. Stars twinkled on one after the other as the sky made the necessary preparations for twilight. It was a magical evening, made all the more wondrous by the fact that Hotaru had fond love and was standing by his side. It was something she'd never thought possible.

"Nice meeting your family," Satoshi said quietly. "What are they, cousins or something?"

The truth being far too complex and unbelievable to admit, Hotaru nodded. "Cousins. Distant."

"Cool. Too bad about Michiru. I wanted to meet the legend."

"Yeah."

A tranquil hush settled over the porch and the forest beyond. Hotaru found it serene beyond belief, just standing there and listen to the song of nature. But Satoshi was uneasy. He squirmed and cracked his knuckles noisily. He kept at it until Hotaru could stand it no longer.

"What's up?"

Satoshi sighed took hold of one of her hands. "It's so beautiful. You. This night. Everything. I … I've really never felt like this in all my life."

Hotaru nodded, her throat thick with emotion. "I feel the same way."

"That's good," He laughed. "That's always good."

Then he leaned in and took her in his arms and kissed her. Not a peck or a smooch, but an honest kiss. His lips flew over hers and for one instant, an instant all too brief, they were one person. It seemed to last forever and for only a twinkling. Then their mouths parted company and they hugged each other, pressing their bodies close to savor the afterglow of their fleeting union.

"I, uh, I want to give you something," Satoshi said. He reached down into his pant's pockets and pulled out something tiny. A button. "This is-"

But Hotaru knew already. She'd heard of this, but only in books and in movies. She'd seen it happen to other people at school, but never her. Never in a thousand years _her._

The button exchanged hands – from Satoshi's to Hotaru's. It wasn't a diamond ring or anything that would be valued by anyone else. Just a plain black button. But Hotaru knew what it meant – what it represented.

"From my school uniform," Satoshi explained, although there was no need to. "It's the one closest to my heart. It's, you know, custom to give it to the girl you love." He laughed. "I never thought I'd give mine away. But I am. To you. Firefly."

Tears were spilling down Hotaru's cheeks by now. She clutched the button tightly in both hands. "Thank you. This … this is the best thing anyone's ever give me." She suddenly felt so full of emotion, so full of love, it was almost painful. "I'm so lucky I found you, Satoshi."

"No," he said. "I'm the lucky one."

And then he was gone. Swallowed by the woods beyond. It was like a dream. The feeling of total true love was so unreal to her; she felt it must be a dream. There was no other explanation. But then she felt the weight of the button in her hands and she knew.

It was not a dream.

…

Half a city away, Usagi watched the same sunset. The only difference was that she was alone. Well, not completely. Luna was there, curled up into a furry ball at the foot of her bed. Usagi sat beside her, alternatively looking at the nightstand clock and the sky beyond her bedroom window. The sun was sinking rapidly beneath the tangle of skyscrapers and other buildings. Night chased after the last rays of light and the moon overtook the sun's place in the sky above.

It was a beautiful sight – one of the prettiest sunsets Usagi could ever remember viewing. But she really couldn't derive any pleasure from it. The coming of night meant that evil prophecy would be fulfilled shortly. Thirty-four people were going to die tonight. That was their destiny. But a destiny could be changed. Usagi was sure of it.

With the sun completely gone, she arose from the bed and headed for the door.

"Usagi?" Luna purred sleepily. "Where're you off to?"

"Tokyo Tower," she replied. "Remember?"

Luna thought for a bit. "Oh, yes. How silly of me to forget. What time is the shooting going to take place?"

"We don't know. That's why we're all going over there at sunset. The prediction said 'night'. There wasn't a specific time."

"Oh." Luna dropped her head back down onto the bedspread. "Just don't stay out too long. It's a school night, you know." She sounded so confident. So sure that Sailor Moon was going to save the day.

Usagi felt sick. She wanted to tell Luna the truth – that Sailor Moon was no more – but couldn't. She felt terrible about putting on this charade, of pretending everything was okay. But she didn't want to tell Luna. Not now, at least. Maybe later, but not now.

She turned to leave, but just when she was halfway through the door, she caught a glimpse of the Three Lights poster hanging over her bed. It'd been up there for two years, ever since she'd heard of the hot new "boy" band, before she knew that its members were actually Sailor Soldiers from another galaxy. That poster had been part of her room for such a long time, and yet she'd never really looked at it since the battle with Galaxia.

Maybe that was because she didn't want to face the questions. Seiya, Yaten, Taiki – who, in reality were Sailor Star Fighter, Healer, and Maker… And their princess, Princess Kakyu…

Looking at those three familiar faces brought such a rush of sadness with it that Usagi had trouble standing up. She braced herself against the doorframe and sunk to the floor. Painful memories roared to the surface of her mind. Images of Fighter, Healer, and Maker being burnt to ashes, of Princess Kakyu skewered through the chest and finally dying in her arms. All those deaths - a means to an end for the retrieval of the Sailor Crystals that they all possessed.

_I want to be born again with everybody else_. That's what Princess Kakyu had told Sailor Moon as she lay dying. There'd been tears in her eyes. _Do you think I could be born again?_

At the time, Usagi said "yes". But now, looking up at those three smiling faces – faces that only existed on a poster for her now – she wasn't so sure.

"What do you think," Usagi mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else. "Do you think they're still around?"

Luna stirred from near-sleep. "Hmm? What's that?" Her eyes followed Usagi's and came to rest upon the poster. Then she understood. "Usagi…"

"Well?" She asked. "Were they reborn like the rest of us?"

"Of course." The words flowed so effortlessly from Luna's mouth. "After the battle with Chaos, every Sailor Soldier in the universe whose life had been taken by Galaxia was reborn. Thanks to you. Those three and the Princess are still out there. I'm sure of it."

It was good to hear that from another source. With Luna's confirmation that they were all still alive, it was easy to picture the Sailor Starlights way out there, on the other side of the galaxy, surfing comets and building a new home for their princess. In the vision, they were happy and carefree. They were smiling.

"I can't transform anymore." The sentence was out before Usagi even knew that she had spoken.

Luna sat up. "What did you say?"

For a second, Usagi wasn't sure what Luna was asking about. But then she realized she'd let the cat out of the bag. And that her secret was out.

"I can't transform anymore," Usagi repeated slowly. She took a deep breath. "I haven't been able to since the final battle with Chaos."

"Why didn't you ever say anything to me?" Luna leaped down from the bed with a soft _plop_ and made her way onto Usagi's lap. "I could've helped you."

Usagi sighed and began to stroke Luna's black fur. "There's nothing you could've done. The Crystal's lost all its power. I can't transform. I can't do anything anymore!" The tears were coming now, but she bit her lip and forced them back.

"Well… Maybe it just needs more time and then-"

"_It's been two years_!"

"Oh." Luna buried her head down deeper into Usagi's lap. She could feel her mistress's frustration. And not just frustration, but also fear. "Just don't worry about it."

Usagi sniffled.

"I'm serious. Look, you expended a tremendous amount of energy to defeat Chaos at the Galaxy Cauldron. Couldn't it be that the Silver Crystal just needs more time to gain back some of that lost energy? Sure it is. In time, and it may be a while, you'll be Sailor Moon once more." Luna chose her words carefully and spoke softly.

It seemed to do the trick. Usagi patted her on the back, scooped her up and placed her back on the bed. "Thanks, Luna. I don't know if you really mean that, but I'm going to believe it for now. Thank you." She smiled sweetly and turned back toward the door.

"Wait!" Luna called after her. "Where are you going?!"

"Haven't we already had this conversation? I'm going to Tokyo Tower."

"You can't! You can't transform! You'd be putting yourself right in harm's way! I won't allow it!"

Still smiling that lovely _everything's-going-to-be-okay_ smile, Usagi said, "I have to do this. I can't sit by while innocent people are getting hurt. I may not be Sailor Moon anymore, but I still have my duty to protect the Earth and all the people on it. I'll be okay. Besides, Venus and the others will be there!"

Before Luna could disagree, the door was slammed shut and Usagi fled down the stairs. She'd already wasted precious time talking. But it'd been a good talk. Sure, sometimes Luna could be pushy and annoying, but overall she was a good friend and companion. Why hadn't she confessed her problems to her before now? It had been such a great feeling, getting all that off her chest.

Usagi took the steps two at a time and wasn't paying attention to where she was going. Consequently, she ran right into Shingo.

"Watch it!!" Her brother screamed. He made it seem as if he'd been run over by a truck. "I think you broke my arm!! GEEZ!!"

"Whatever." Usagi brushed past him. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Go stuff your face." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Mom made me come up here and ask you if you wanted to watch a movie."

"With who?"

"With us. The family. It's family movie night." Shingo moved the first two fingers of each hand up and down in a quotation mark gesture. "Can you believe it? How cheesy can they get?"

"What's brought this up all of a sudden?" Usagi asked, moving towards the front door. Spending a night plopped in front of the TV with Shingo at her side wasn't her idea of a swell night. It sounded more like torture.

"Dunno. Mom and Dad are on some kind of family-unity kick."

"Okaaay." Usagi opened the door. "I'd love to-" _Lie._ "-but I've got some stuff I gotta do." _The half-truth_.

Shingo shrugged. "I don't blame you. It's stupid. I'm gonna see if I can weasel out of it myself."

Nodding, Usagi closed the front door of the Tsukino home behind her and took off down the dark streets. Traffic was minimal. Gas prices were too high to allow for aimless driving. A few people milled about on the sidewalks but for the most part, the night was quiet. Quiet and dirty. Mountains of trash bags were pilled up on every street corner, waiting for a garbage truck that evidently had never come. There had to be at least two weeks worth of garbage lying there. And it wasn't just the trash that put a darkened cloud over the city. Homeless people, men and women (and shockingly enough, children), sat huddled in alleyways, with a variety of plastic bags strewn about them. Those bags held the last accumulations of their past lives – when they were employed and happy, when the economy was still good and all was carefree. They did not look up as Usagi passed by. They just sat there, wondering how life could've turned out so bad.

Usagi thought of the jobless Unazuki and shivered.

Up ahead, the Tokyo Tower glittered like a red-orange jewel. It towered over the rest of the city like a palace.

Finding the others proved not to be a problem. A meeting location had already been established. The plan was to meet together at the base of the tower and then once it closed, to move up and keep watch on the first observation deck for any suspicious activity. Minako, Ami, Makoto, and Mamoru were already at the designated location as Sailor Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, and Tuxedo Mask. It didn't look like Rei was going to come. That was fine with Usagi. After her little blow-up at the meeting last night, it was probably best just to let her stay home and cool off.

Before joining them, Usagi looked around to make sure nobody was watching and then made a dash to the small back alley where everyone was gathered.

"Geez. Took you long enough," Venus said. "We started to think you wouldn't be coming."

"No, I'm here. Just took a while longer than expected." Usagi leaned up against the side of the alleyway to catch her breath. She'd just run halfway across the city in five minutes. Not too bad, if you asked her.

Sailor Mercury was stationed at the mouth of the alley, keeping a watch on the tower. She seemed to be doing fine. The troubles of the previous night didn't show on her face. Now that she had a goal –something to do- she was fine. That's what made Ami Mizuno Ami Mizuno. She had the ability to stay focus on the present and push worrisome thoughts to the back of her mind when the time came to get a job done.

Now she turned to Usagi. "Come on, transform. What are you waiting for?"

"I think I'm going to let you guys handle this one," Usagi said.

Jupiter snickered and punched her playfully on the arm. "Very funny. Now come on and transform. We could use Sailor Moon right about now."

Oh, no. If they kept pushing, Usagi wouldn't be able to take it. She could feel the weight of everyone's stares. She felt so naked. Maybe it'd been a bad idea to come. Of course it was. Oh, why had she come?!

Because she still had a duty to perform. Regardless of her position as a Sailor Soldier, she had a job to do and she was going to do it. Protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

"I'm serious, Jupiter. Aren't you guys supposed to be the legendary warriors assigned to protect me, the Moon Princess? Well, it seems to me that _I've_ been the one protecting you all lately. I'm giving you this opportunity to redeem yourselves as my protectors."

It worked like a charm. Jupiter took the "opportunity" as a challenge, Venus as a personal insult to her role as leader. Mercury and Tuxedo Mask didn't say anything one way or the other. In any case, it worked and the subject of her transforming or not wasn't brought up again.

The five of them waited in that cramped alleyway for what seemed like ages. Minutes crawled by like bloated slugs. At one point, Usagi was certain that they'd been waiting for over three hours but when a watch was consulted, it proved to have been only thirty-four minutes. It was maddening, just sitting there waiting for something to happen. Usagi wished she'd brought a Gameboy or something.

At last, just as Sunday night was metamorphosing into Monday morning, Tokyo Tower's tourism hours expired. Usagi and the others waited another thirty minutes to make sure any late sightseers were out of the picture before barging into action.

With the coast clear, Venus jerked her thumb in the direction of the tower and made a run for it. The others followed close behind. Jupiter and Tuxedo Mask stayed ground level outside the tower itself while Venus, Mercury, and Usagi prepared to ascend to the observation deck. Even though visiting hours were over, there was still the chance of running into a security guard should they decide to take the stairs or enter into the structure itself in any way. To bypass this, they decided to fly.

It was simple enough. Venus, Mercury, and Usagi formed a circle and joined hands. They closed their eyes and focused inward. Within seconds, the three of them felt themselves floating upward. At a slow and steady pace, the ground below grew further and further away. Only the mightiest of winds could penetrate the protective lighter-than-air bubble and when it did, it felt like nothing more than a gentle breeze. As the girls glided ever upward, Usagi found herself thinking about another battle that had taken place at this exact same spot.

It'd been Kunzite then. Kunzite, one of the Dark Kingdom's most ruthless and powerful warriors. He'd used his powers to cause a citywide blackout, his plan being to steal energy, of course. But the Sailor Soldiers had stopped him – and in the process learned a startling truth. Usagi was the long-lost Moon Princess. It'd been that battle where the truth had been revealed. Things were different from that point on. That battle marked the point of no return. Destiny reared its head that night atop the Tokyo Tower. Come to think of it, that was also when the Silver Crystal first appeared. It'd formed from a teardrop that Usagi had shed over her newly recovered memories and her love for her past-life lover, Endymion.

It all seemed so long ago.

Now it was the same location, only four years later.

The anti-gravity bubble guided itself over to the deserted observation deck and passed easily through the steel and glass enclosure. The entire city spread out before them in lighted rows of neatly arranged streets and buildings. It looked so calm and peaceful from up above – except for the earthquake zone. That particular section of town continued to be shrouded in a twisted pit of blackness.

Usagi moved closer to the glass to better enjoy the fantastic view. Venus joined her. Sailor Mercury, meanwhile, was all business. With a press of her earring, she activated her VR goggles and began to scan the area for intruders.

The fantastic view quickly lost its appeal to Usagi and she spent the next three hours aimlessly shuffling around on the deck. She managed to persuade Sailor Venus into playing a game of rock-paper-scissors with her for the first hour – the final score being Usagi: 0, Venus: 18. After that, she spent the second hour playing tick-tac-toe with herself. It was hard going, considering she didn't have any paper or writing utensils. But somehow she made it work. The third hour was spent in a brain-numbing vortex of boredom.

If only she'd stayed on the ground with Jupiter and Tuxedo Mask. Maybe then she could've had the option of going off and grabbing a burger instead of just sitting and waiting. Or cuddled with Mamo-chan. Now she was trapped. Trapped with _nothing_ to do.

Just when Usagi had decided to make the most of the downtime and take a snooze, Mercury gasped and snapped her fingers.

"Perimeter breech! Intruder alert on the south base of the tower!"

Sailor Venus jolted to attention. "The gunman?"

"Best guess." Mercury squeezed her earring and the goggles flashed, producing a dull beeping noise along with it. "He's bypassed Jupiter and Tuxedo Mask. He's heading inside the structure now. He's taking the…." More flashes and beeps. "The elevator. He's taking the elevator!"

Sure enough, there came a distant whurr from up above as machinery started up. The girls listened for a minute and heard the sound of the elevator compartment pass by their floor as it headed for ground-level. Suddenly, the full impact of the situation struck Usagi. The future was going to be riding up in that elevator any second now. Thirty-four lives were at stake. She couldn't screw up. One single misstep could mean the difference between life and death for dozens of innocent people.

Things moved quickly. Sailor Venus asked Mercury to provide some fog to use as cover. She obliged and the entire observation deck was promptly shrouded in a dense white pea soup.

"Okay, let's not jump the gun on this," Venus said. She had to speak quickly because the elevator was already rising, the gunman already onboard. "He should make the first move. Usagi, stay back and watch how the pros do it."

That sounded perfectly fine to her. Usagi gave Venus and Mercury a thumbs-up and took refuge along a far wall.

_Ding!_

That pleasant ring signaled the arrival of the elevator. Venus and Mercury sidestepped back into the fog as the doors slid open to reveal the gunman. As the man exited, Usagi was taken back. This couldn't be right. There had to be some mistake. She'd been imagining the would-be sniper as some dirty teenage bum, high on crack and down on life. The image in her head was perfectly clear – the shooter would have long, greasy hair, a straggly unkempt beard (mainly peachfuzz – after all, he would be a teenager), he'd be wearing a tattered old patched-up coat, and carrying a battered violin case in which the dreaded weapon would be stashed.

That's what she'd imagined. But the man in front of her shattered that mental image. The gunman of reality couldn't have been any younger than 50. His graying hair was neatly trimmed and greased back from the forehead. In lieu of a tattered and patched coat, he wore a business suit – vest and all. His dark slacks were neatly pressed and boosted creases sharp enough to slice through carrots. On his feet glistened two polished penny loafers. It was as if, on his way home from securing a major corporate merger for his business, he decided to stop by the Tokyo Tower and kill a few dozen people – just as a way to wind down for the day. In his right hand, he carried a large black case. A shoulder-strap trailed out behind it like a long venomous snake.

He didn't see Usagi, even though she was pressed tightly up against a wall mere feet away. He moved forward, his eyes straight ahead. The fog didn't seem to bother him in the least. In fact, he didn't take notice of it at all. He just walked calmly over to the large glass window of the observation desk and bent down. He unzipped his black case and withdrew a long, sleek rifle. A massive scope the size of an apple was then affixed to it.

Usagi watched all this with growing trepidation. She felt totally exposed, so close to the man. Add that to the fact that she couldn't transform and would be totally helpless should he decide to turn around and see her standing there. Where were the girls at?!

The man took the gun in both hands and stood. He raised the weapon up and wrapped the index finger of his right hand around the trigger. The butt of the rifle rested up against his shoulder. He lowered his head down to peer through the scope, one eye closing…

He intended to shoot through the glass! The barrel of the gun was already dropping downward, aligning with the streets below.

Thirty-four people…

Usagi pushed herself off from the wall and went running toward the sniper. She wasn't thinking about her safety or the idiocy of such an act – her only concern were those innocent people on the streets below. So she ran. The man's back was to her and only a few feet away. She could reach him! She could _stop_ him! Oh where were the other girls?! She wasn't afraid of facing him alone (her brain had already shut down its fear receptors in the adrenaline rush a moment before), but she _was_ afraid of not being able to stop him by herself. He was old, but still twice her size. And he had a gun.

She tumbled forward, shooting out an arm out to grab hold of the man's shirtsleeve, when-

"Stop!" A voice from the mist. Sailor Venus. It was unclear whom she was ordering to stop – the gunman from shooting, or Usagi from trying to save the day.

The shooter didn't respond. The gun continued to tilt downward. That right index finger went taut.

Usagi threw herself onto the man's back, kicking and screaming for all she was worth. She tore at his impeccable hair and pounded her fists down upon his head. _Thirty-four. Thirty-four. Thirty-four._ The number echoed endlessly around in her head. Each digit represented a person with a family. With friends. With a life. And for that, she wasn't going to give up.

Without so much as a grunt or a swear, the gunman took hold of one of her hands and spun around quickly, sending Usagi crashing to the floor. Her entire backside lit up in an array of pain. She spun around quickly to see where the man was in relation to her, only to find herself looking down the cold, black barrel of a rifle.

The last thought that dashed its way through her mind was – _Luna was right. I shouldn't have come._ _I'm- _

-dead.

But she wasn't. At the very last second, that second between thought and execution, a shimmering golden object came arching through the sky, striking the gunman's hand. He cried out in pain, the first sound he'd produced since arriving on the observation deck, and dropped the rifle. It clattered uselessly onto the floor. The golden lifesaver swooped back behind the man and disappeared into the fog.

It'd been Sailor Venus' Crescent Boomerang that had saved her life. Usagi hadn't heard the phrase used to summon it forth, but she was sure of it. _V-Babe sure likes to make an entrance,_ she thought to herself. _She just had to wait 'til the very laaaaaast second! I am _so_ going to kill her later!_

But the danger wasn't over yet. The gunman sprang forward. His fingers wrapped around the gun.

"Venus Love-Me Chain!!"

A gilded chain of ovals sprung out from nowhere and wrapped itself around the man's hand. The gun once again dropped to the floor. The man tried to bend down for it, but couldn't. He was held tight by the bonds of love.

The fog cleared. From the misty remnants appeared Sailors Mercury and Venus, like figures from a dream. Venus held tight to the Love-Chain like it was a lasso and approached the gunman. Mercury ran to Usagi's side.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you? Let me see."

Usagi shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm fine. No thanks to Venus. Geez, Venus! You really had me going! I thought the plan was for him to make the first move! I didn't realize that meant offing me in the process!!"

Venus shrugged innocently. "And yet here you are, safe and sound. So did I pass the test? Did I prove myself worthy enough to be your protector?"

Hmph. Sarcasm. It really was the lowest form of humor.

"Now let's find out who this guy is and whether or not carrying a rifle around with him is a job requirement or a hobby." Sailor Venus turned her attention back to the gunman. "Spill."

He said nothing. He just stood there with the weirdest expression in his eyes. They were sort of glazed over and seemed to be looking out into space. Unfocused. Maybe he _was_ on drugs after all. No reason why they should be limited only to dirty bum teenagers, right?

"Answer me."

No actual words were produced this time, but he did succeed in making a few animalistic grunts.

By this time, Sailor Venus' patience was reaching its limit. She tightened the chain around his waist to the point where it would've been painful. "Answer me! This is the whip of love! It commands you to speak!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The girls jerked in surprise as the gunman threw back his head in a scream. His body convulsed within the confines of the chain. He threw his head forward and then back again in one snapping movement.

"Get BACK!! AWAY!! S-s-stop it!!" His eyes were fully alert now, only they seemed attuned to a higher plane or another dimension. They rolled violently about in their sockets, each tumbling in a different direction than the other. Had Usagi not seen it first hand, she would've thought it impossible.

Mercury stepped forward to lend a hand in restraining. The man continued to jerk and spasm uncontrollably. Sweat poured off his face in buckets. His once white dress shirt was now transparent and matted to his body. Usagi watched from a distance as Mercury and Venus continued to question him. They got no answers. Just more incoherent screams.

As she watched the scene unfold, something occurred to her. Usagi took a small step toward the seizing man and said, "Were you forced into this?"

She wasn't sure if he could've heard her over his own racket, but the instant those words came out of her mouth, he stopped shaking and screaming. He collapsed down on his knees and began to weep. "I couldn't help it. I – I could feel myself doing it, but…"

He turned his teary face up to Usagi. "That eye! _That horrible golden eye!_"

And then he fainted dead away.

…

Minako didn't get back home until very late – or very early, depending how you looked at it. In either case, it was way past her bedtime and her mom was likely to be royally peeved. But that didn't concern her. She was too old for "bedtime" anyway. What bothered her at the moment was figuring out what the gunman had said. _That eye. That horrible golden eye. _What did it mean? Mamoru had dropped him off downtown at the police station, which, if Usagi was right, wasn't fair to him. _She_ seemed to think somebody had been controlling him, using him as a puppet to carry out evil deeds. How she came to that conclusion was anyone's guess. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn't. He sure had been acting strange – screaming and yelling and jerking – once he'd been caught. If only Sailor Mars or Neptune had been with them. They could've told for certain whether the man was truly possessed or not by way of Mar's ESP abilities and Neptune's mirror.

But it was over now, one way or the other. The would-be murderer was safe and sound over at Police Headquarters. Thirty-four lives had been saved. The future had been altered. …So why did she feel so unhappy?

The eye. That-

"Horrible golden eye." Minako muttered it to herself as she started up the walkway to her house. The porch light was on, which indicated her mom was waiting up for her. But the living room curtains were pulled, which suggested the opposite.

Only one way to find out for sure. Minako heaved a sigh and withdrew her house key from her pocket. She inserted it into the front door and gently pushed it open. So far so good. The house was dark. The house was quiet. The only sound came from the grandfather clock on the second floor landing as it ticked away the hours.

Could it be? Could she actually sneak back inside unnoticed? It appeared so!

Nope.

With a loud _snap_, the living room lights blazed forth to reveal Minako's mother sitting stiffly in an uncomfortable looking armchair. She wasted no time in expressing her outrage.

"Do you have ANY idea what time it is, young lady?! Wait, don't even answer that. It's four. FOUR in the MORNING!! WHAT have you been doing out so late?! Running the streets and selling your body, more than likely. It wouldn't surprise me a bit. You're SUCH a disobedient girl! Sometimes I wish I'd never even given birth to you! You are SO like your father! So lazy and… and…."

"Disobedient?" Minako offered.

"DON'T YOU PUT WORDS IN MY MOUTH!!"

To any other child, the words being spoken might hurt as much as knife wounds. And they did. Back in the day. But Minako had heard the same lecture, the same hurtful comments made so often, that they just didn't faze her anymore. She let them strike her and roll off. Her mom was nuts. Period.

"SO?" Mother was standing now, coming ever closer to the unimpressed Minako. "Care you explain what you've been doing for the last SIX HOURS?!"

"Why?" Minako turned away and started for the stairs. "You wouldn't hear what I'd have to say anyway."

"Ooooooh, how DARE-"

A ringing telephone cut through Mrs. Aino's ravings.

"Now who could that be at this hour?! That better not be another one of your idiot friends!" She exclaimed as she marched to the kitchen to answer it. "That Usagi girl is a BAD influence on you! But why do I even bother telling you this? It's not like you're going to heed your OWN MOTHER'S advice!!"

The phone was snatched from its wall cradle.

"Hello?" Nice and sweet.

_Hag_. Minako shook her head in disgust and set off up the stairs for the sanctuary of her bedroom. Her room repelled her mother away much the same as a church did a vampire.

"Wait!" Her mother called out. "There's a phone call for you!"

Minako knotted her eyebrows together in confusion. It couldn't be Usagi. They'd left Tokyo Tower at the same time and Usagi's house was further away from Minako's. She was probably still be walking home. The same went for Ami, Makoto, and Mamoru. Then again, it could be Rei or Haruka or one of the others. If it were, they'd be getting an earful on why, in the future, they would _not _be calling her at four in the morning ever again. Manners, you see.

She went back downstairs and took the phone from her mother's hand, mouthing the words "_Who is it_?" Her mom angrily hunched her shoulders and threw up her hands in a gesture of ignorance.

"Hello?" Minako asked.

"Hello." The caller was male. It wasn't Mamoru, though. Or any other male voice she could immediately recognize. But it did sound familiar. She couldn't place it or say where she'd heard it before, but she _had_ heard it somewhere at some point in the past.

"Hello?' Minako repeated.

"You've made a liar out of me," the phone whispered.

A sudden chill ran up her spine. "Is this … are you the one who … who made all those predictions?"

"Yes."

She almost dropped the phone. "You… I…. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything, then. I'm just calling to congratulate you. It's not everyday destiny's altered."

The phone cord was a knot around Minako's knuckles. "Well, how …. How do you make all these predictions? I mean…"

"I'll tell you everything you want to know – along with another prediction that I've kept secret up until now. A prediction so terrible that to let it be known would be to risk world-wide panic."

"I don't understand."

"A meeting. Just the two of us. Ueno Park. Eight o'clock tomorrow night." A slight chuckle. "Don't be late."

Minako could sense the caller was about to hang up. There were still so many questions she wanted to ask, but in the short time she had left, she could only think of one.

"What's your name? What should I call you?"

The caller was silent for such a long time that Minako thought he'd hung up. But then he spoke again just when _she_ was about to hang up.

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my name just yet. However, you may call me … '_Wiseman_'."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

She tried to wait. She really did. But curiosity and impatience got the better of her in the end. Minako sleepwalked through her morning classes in a daze, present in body but not in spirit. Thankfully she didn't miss much in the way of new material. With final exams coming up so soon, the entire day was spent re-reading old chapters and going over long-forgotten formulas and equations. It was a day of lectures and worksheets. Minako tried to stay focused, but that haunting voice on the other end of the phone, so mysterious and yet familiar, kept her from her studies.

Wiseman. That was the name he assigned himself. But it couldn't be _the_ Wiseman. No. _He_ had been defeated by the Sailor Soldiers long ago. A powerful enemy vanquished for all time. Good riddance.

Still, the question of the caller's real identity weighed heavily on Minako's mind. And when lunchtime rolled around, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to get some answers – and there was only one person who could help her obtain those answers. So as soon as the lunch bell rang, Minako took off like a rocket from the high school. She ran the few blocks to her destination without so much as a backwards glance.

Juuban Elementary stood just up ahead. Minako dashed through the parking lot and into the building itself, not even bothering to stop at the office to get a visitor's pass. She didn't plan on staying long.

She wondered through the school's halls trying to pretend like she knew where she was going. The building had a simple layout, thankfully, and signs pointed out rooms of interest. One sign read "Nurse's Office" and Minako breathed a sigh of relief as she entered that room. Her aimless wondering was over.

The place was empty. Figured. That was how Minako's luck ran – three steps forward, two steps back. At this rate, she'd never be able to get back before lunch break ended. No big deal either way, considering it was a review day. Maybe she'd just head back home after this. The meeting with "Wiseman" was coming up soon – midnight tonight – and she didn't think she'd be able to concentrate on her studies anyway with that hanging over her head.

Elementary school kids had it easy. Minako came to that sickening realization as she hoisted herself up onto the sheeted examination table in the corner. She could hear the sound of children laughing behind closed doors – a sound sorely absent in a high school setting. She could smell the lingering fragrances of cherry and vanilla – nice soothing smells, so unlike the sour, sweaty stench of high school. Even the nurse's office seemed specifically tailored for a young clientele with its walls done over in soft pastel colors and its jar full of lollipops up on a nearby desk. The little boogers had better enjoy it while it lasted. Life wouldn't always be so sweet and agreeable. Minako figured life – _real_ life - started somewhere around middle school and didn't let up after that. From then on out, it was disappointments and heartache. You were expected to take life's bumps and pitfalls with a smile on your face and with a minimum of complaining. And with no lollipops.

The door to the office opened suddenly, snapping Minako out of her uncharacteristic melancholy. Setsuna Meioh entered carrying a stack of Manila envelopes. In contrast to her usual dark and somber attire, she wore a long white coat buttoned over her day-clothes. A stethoscope hung around her neck. She placed the envelopes inside a desk drawer and smiled faintly at Minako. If she was surprised at seeing her here, she didn't show it.

"Need a check-up?"

Blushing, Minako jumped off the exam table. She always felt so stupid and childish in the presence of Setsuna. The woman just seemed so cool and laid-back. Nothing rattled her. Indeed, it took events of monumental and earth-shaking consequences to elicit any type of reaction in her at all.

"Actually, I kinda had to talk with you."

"It must be important if you felt the need to come all the way up here during school hours." Setsuna motioned for Minako to take a seat on the only chair in the room. "What's troubling you?"

Ever since she'd waken up from a fitful sleep earlier that morning, she'd been hoping to talk with Setsuna. And now she didn't now what to say. How to start. It didn't help that the other woman's cavernous maroon eyes were focused dead on her, either. _Just start at the beginning_. That was the traditionally way to start off. Minako took a breath and jumped right in. "You know about all those disaster predictions?"

"Yes." Setsuna leaned up against the far wall of the office and grinned. "And I must express my congratulations on stopping that gunman last night. I didn't hear anything about shooting victims on the news this morning, so I assume you managed to take care of the situation?"

"We did. Yes."

"Good for you. Changing the future is a difficult task. I should know."

The future._ Chibiusa. Crystal Toyo. Black Moon. Wiseman. _That one word ignited a keg of memories. …Memories of the future. What an oxymoron.

Minako sighed and looked down at her ugly school-issued shoes. "Actually, I want to talk to you about the future."

Setsuna stiffened but did not speak.

"Last night, I got a phone call from the person that made all those predictions. He wanted to set up a meeting. I didn't get his real name, but he said I could call him …. Wiseman."

Nothing from Setsuna's corner. Minako was staring to get a little irritated at the woman's apparent indifference. Here she was saying that a possible enemy had come back from the dead and all she got back was silence. This was big. Huge! If the caller really was THE Wiseman, that meant the Sailor Soldiers had to be ready. He might be planning to attack the future again! Or… Or…

Minako deflated. Maybe it'd been a mistake coming here. "I just wanted to hear your opinion. Do you think it's the same Wiseman we've dealt with before? And if so, why'd he come back to the past?" She sighed. "Considering you're the Guardian of Time, I'd really be grateful for your input."

Using her back as a springboard, Setsuna pushed off from the wall and sat down on the exam table across from Minako. The thing was so high up off the ground, even her long legs didn't completely reach the floor. "The Sailor Soldiers defeated him _and_ his Black Moon clan long ago. Don't you remember? Sailor Moon and Small Lady defeated him by the use of the two Silver Crystals of the past and future."

Yes, she remembered. Sailor Pluto herself had lost her life in that battle. She'd used the forbidden power to stop time to prevent the diabolical Prince Demand (one of Wiseman's underlings) from combining the two Crystals of the past and future. Stopping time was the so-called "last taboo" and doing so was a kind of kamikaze move – which meant Pluto ended up destroying herself. However, she appeared later in the past, in the guise of Setsuna Meioh. The Queen of the future, Neo-Queen Serenity (Usagi's future self) had allowed her to be reborn.

Still, there was something in her voice. Something lingering just below the surface. Minako could tell by the way she had spoken and her body posture. If was like she was only giving the half-truth. Telling only half of the story. "What else?" Asked Minako. "Come on. Out with it."

Setsuna looked up at the florescent lights overhead. She appeared nervous – hesitant to speak. Finally, she said, "Wiseman was defeated in the 30th century. Defeated by the Sailor Soldiers of the past. The only reason you came into contact with him was because he'd been threatening the future."

"Yeah. Chibiusa came to us for help. We followed her into the future and kicked major Black Moon butt. So what's your point? Are you saying this guy that called me isn't the same guy?"

"Not the one you knew."

Minako put her head in the palms of both hands and exhaled deeply. Talking to Setsuna was like running around in circles. You spoke new words but always managed to skate around the edge of the topic. It was maddening. "What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps it would be better if you told me all you know about Wiseman."

"I only know what I read from the Crystal Palace's microchip history files." She frowned, trying to recall the details. "Before the battle with the Black Moon, his name had been 'Death Phantom' and he mounted an attack on Crystal Tokyo or something." Minako paused and stole a look over at Setsuna to make sure she was getting everything correct. "Neo Queen Serenity defeated him and sent him to Nemesis, the tenth planet of the solar system. He escaped some time later and founded the Black Moon clan and tried to take over the Earth again. Right?"

Setsuna nodded, making her swell with pride with the knowledge that she'd gotten everything right. "Yes. Neo Queen Serenity became Queen at 22 and established Crystal Tokyo. Some time later, the Death Phantom appeared. He was a human with extrasensory powers. Death-hands and the evil eye."

_That eye! That horrible golden eye! _Evil eye, golden eye… Could it be a coincidence? Minako thought not. She shuddered.

"-he waged war with the Queen and revived the war and murder that had become extinct. The Queen defeated him, as you said, and banished him to the cursed planet Nemesis. Since he was a human, she couldn't execute him. After that, Neo Queen Serenity was elevated to official royal status and Crystal Tokyo and the entire Earth came under her rule. The Death Phantom escaped several centuries later, however. Taking the name '_Wiseman_', he managed to sway several wayward youths into rejecting the Queen's rule and took them to Nemesis. That's how the Black Moon clan first came into being."

"Wow," said Minako. "You just talked for a good three minutes, all the while saying absolutely _nothing_ of value. Way to go."

Setsuna narrowed her dark red eyes at her and crossed her arms over her white smock. "What I'm saying is you fought against the Wiseman of the future. You know that Neo Queen Serenity is Usagi's future self. The King of the Earth, King Endymion is Mamoru's future self. All these people living in the future have their equivalents here in the past. Is it such a stretch, then, to assume the Wiseman also has a past-self living here among us?"

Minako almost fell off her chair. "So you're saying it was Wiseman's _past_-self that called me!" With this new revelation, the whole situation quickly blew past 'huge status' and into the realm of those earth-shattering, monumental situations that prompted changes in Setsuna's facial configuration.

"Maybe." Setsuna shrugged. "Maybe not. I'm just giving you my opinion like you asked. It could be a coincidence."

Except it wasn't. She could say that because she didn't know what the gunman had said. About the eye. That eye remark perfectly fitted in with the evil eye that the future version of Wiseman sported. It meant it _had_ been THE Wiseman on the phone last night – not the Wiseman she'd fought against in the 30th century, but the Wiseman of the present time period, before he had risen to power!

She felt sick.

But there was no time for that now. New answers to new questions were needed. "Setsuna, you say the Death Phantom -Wiseman- was a human, that's why the Queen couldn't execute him. Then what's his name? His real name?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know or you won't tell me?"

"It's not that I won't tell you, I _can't_." Setsuna's voice took on an edge it normally didn't have. "I am Sailor Pluto, the Warrior of Time. In my previous existence, I guarded the door of all time and space. Revealing his name to you would be against my principles."

"Oh." Minako thought a bit. It seemed she wanted to reveal the name, but couldn't – cosmic laws being what they are and all. But there was an easy way around that little bump in the road. "In that case, lend me one of your time-keys and I'll go to the future myself and look it up in the records. That way, you wouldn't have told me. No harm no foul."

Setsuna shook her head slowly from side to side. "I can't. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. After the battle with Galaxia and Chaos, the Gates of Time were permanently sealed shut to prevent any more paradoxes. Time travel isn't possible anymore. From now on, we're driving down a one lane road." She opened her mouth to speak further, then hesitated. After a brief second's silence, she spoke again – this time with shaky words and downcast eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, Small Lady's traveling to the past has had its consequences. History's been moved severely off-course already. Now things are progressing along at a faster rate than before."

Minako leaned forward. "What do you mean by that?"

But the other woman didn't answer. She simply hung her head, causing her long black hair to fold itself inward and obscure her face from view, like a curtain closing to signal that the show was over. There was nothing more to say. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to get any more information out of her, Minako thanked Setsuna and left. She didn't return to school. Couldn't.

Wiseman, Death Phantom, the future, the past, the present, -all converging suddenly at an alarming rate. Life had taken on a different shade and tint since the startling announcement. It now seemed so much more uncertain, so unsure. A battle loomed. Why else would Wiseman have called her? He was toying with her the way a cat would a mouse.

Or it could've been a coincidence like Setsuna suggested. Somehow, Minako thought not. Then again, it _could_ be. Nothing would be certain until the meeting later on. The meeting… Minako wondered if she should've mentioned that to Setsuna. _Nah_. A lecture would've doubtlessly followed about how the whole thing was obviously a trap and _how_ could she have been so gullible, not to mention _stupid_ to agree to the meeting and on and on and on. Minako had been in no mood for lectures. Besides, wasn't she the leader of the Sailor Soldiers? Yes, although she often forgot that fact. Back during the Silver Millennium, it'd just been the four of them protecting the Princess – Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and she herself as Sailor Venus. Sailors Pluto, Neptune, and Uranus watched over the kingdom from afar and never came into contact with the original four guardians. Sailor Saturn slept undisturbed, having not yet awakened. Things were simple back then. As Sailor Venus, it had been Minako's duty to protect Princess Serenity, the crown princess of the Silver Millennium, against attacks by any who would dare upset the peace of the Moon Kingdom. But nobody dared. The Moon Kingdom had been a kingdom of tranquility and harmony.

Until the great Evil One, that wicked spawn from the sun, Queen Metallia, turned the people of the Earth against those of the moon and began a war which destroyed the peaceful Moon Kingdom for good.

Minako's memories of her past life were hazy at best, but the one thing the passing of time couldn't dim was that feeling of failure and sorrow that followed after the battle. She had failed. As leader of the Sailor Soldiers, she had shamed herself and the Moon Kingdom with her inability to protect the Princess. She'd never spoken of her feelings regarding this matter to anyone else, and in her view, it really wasn't anybody else's business. She kept these feelings private.

Enough moping around. The meeting was still a good eight hours away – far too long to be wondering around the city like a zombie. She needed to go someplace. Minako couldn't go back to school and the prospect of going home didn't look so good either. Where else, then? As it turned out, the answer was right in front of her.

The arcade.

Ah, yes. Crown Arcade. A refuge for the education-weary teenagers of Tokyo to relieve their pent-up stress by way of mindlessly mashing buttons and levers. Minako smiled. This would do. Twelve straight hours of video game madness! She only hoped she had enough money.

The electronic doors opened with a blast of cold air-conditioning and once she stepped through them, she knew she was home. Even with her eyes closed, she knew the place like the back of her hand. Huge video-racing modules dominated the far wall, while smaller games like skee-ball and the ever classic hook and crane game took up much of the actual floor space. The prize booth, where you could exchange your hard-earned tokens for an array of fabulous prizes, took up the entire right side of the building. Granted, those so-called fabulous prizes generally consisted of plastic neon-colored slinkies, Chinese finger-traps, and erasers in the shape of popular anime characters. But that didn't matter. The thrill of winning a game or defeating a particularly tough boss was reward enough for most players.

Crown Arcade – a virtual temple of flashing lights and youthful glee. Yet, as Mina walked further inside, she felt a change in atmosphere. The place was empty, for one thing. Odd. It really looked different, bigger, without the typical teenage throng packing the place.

"Hey."

Startled by the sudden noise, Minako jumped and turned around, coming face to face with Motoki – more affectionately known as "The Arcade Guy". As soon as her brain matched face with name, she began to blush. It was an automatic reaction. Even at 18 years of age, she still felt weak-kneed and giddy as a schoolgirl around this guy. She'd known him ever since the tender age of 13, during her time as the masked champion of justice, Sailor V – before she came into her true identity as Sailor Venus. Back then, he'd been in his late teens. Now he had to be in his mid-twenties. But no matter the age, he still had that boyish face and air about him that turned any number of girls into stammering piles of hormonal goo when in his presence. Minako had long studied the effect and came to the conclusion that girls liked him not just because of his good looks, but also because he was the quintessential boy-next-door. Good looking, but approachable. The kind of guy you could totally take home to mama. Well … _most_ moms.

But that charming air around Motoki was AWOL right now. He smiled at Minako, but it was merely a mask. Something lingered behind it. Minako wanted to ask what was troubling him, but she didn't want to be rude.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He tried to ask it lightly, but the question came out soft and kind of sad-like.

"Nah." Minako waved a hand in the air. "They can't teach me anything I didn't already know." She looked around the room. "It sure is weird to see it so empty. Usually it's packed."

Motoki sighed wearily. "You haven't stopped by lately, then. It's been like this for a long time. With the economy and all the money troubles these days, people are saving for groceries and gas instead of playing video games." He took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled it in one long _whoosh_. "Not that I blame them."

"Oh." It sounded dumb, but Minako couldn't think of anything else to say.

Moving slowly, like a sleepwalking zombie, Motoki made his way over to the famous Sailor V game – standing all by its lonesome in the middle of the room. He ran a tender hand over the dark screen and the console. "We used to have a ton of these. A whole row of 'em, remember?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Now it's just this one. It's the last of its kind."

He reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew a coin. He slid it into the game's slot. The dark screen instantly lit up with an explosion of color. "Sailor V! The GAME!!" An electronic voice screeched. And then a pixilated Minako in full Sailor V gear sprinted across the bottom of the screen, pausing only long enough in the middle of it to wag her finger at the audience in a feisty manner.

"It really does look like you," Motoki said. "It's creepy."

Minako wasn't shocked that he'd made the connection. He was one of the few people around who knew her secret identity. In fact, he knew who all the Sailor Soldiers were. Well, the original five, anyway.

"Don't be so impressed," Minako said. "It was made totally without my approval. I didn't even get anything from it. I mean, shouldn't I have gotten royalties or something? A conspiracy!"

Her little attempt at levity crashed and burned. Motoki, who usually laughed and smiled no matter how dumb or stupid the joke, stood stiff and silent as a statue. The time for subtlety had passed. Minako had to get to the bottom of what was bothering him. She couldn't stand to see him so quiet and downcast.

"Okay. What's up?"

Motoki blinked. "Huh?"

"You can't fool me. Something's the matter." Minako smiled and went over to him, placing her arm around his shoulders. She had to stand on tippy-toes to do this. "Why don't you tell me? Two heads are better than one. With our collective brain power, I bet we can solve any problem."

That incited a bitter laugh. "I don't think so. I wish, but I don't think so." He moved out from under Minako's embrace and moved slowly behind the Sailor V game. "The truth is, one week from now, all this will be gone."

"I don't understand."

"We're going out of business."

"No," was all Minako could think to say. It came blubbering out of her mouth before she knew it. What had he just said? Going out of business? It couldn't be! Surely he was joking!

But he wasn't. "The arcade and the Fruit Parlor, too."

"But … but…" There were so many questions, so many things she wanted to say, but the words were jumbled and she couldn't find the right combination to put her thoughts into phrase. Finally, she took a deep breath and used it to gather herself. "But how is that possible? I thought your family owned them? How can you … how is it that…" The words disappeared again in a whirl of emotion. Things were spinning out of control. Everything was happening too fast.

"Times are bad. My mom's lost her job and we don't make enough money from the arcade and the restaurant to support a family of four." Motoki shrugged as if it didn't matter one way or the other. But Minako could see unshed tears shimmering behind his hazel eyes. "It's gonna be hard leaving you and the girls."

Wait. What? _Leaving_? Did he just say he was leaving? Oh, boy, this was just getting worse and worse. Minako rushed up to him and took hold of a hand. "What do you mean? You'll still be here in town, won't you? I mean, you wont have the arcade and the Parlor, but you'll still be around. Right?"

His silence proved to be all the answer she needed.

"Motoki!"

He shrugged. "We'll be leaving by the end of this week. Me, the parents, sis-"

Oh, no. "Unazuki, too?" Minako couldn't bear any more.

"Yep."

"But … but you'll still be pretty close by, right?"

"Yokohama," Motoki said. "My uncle has a paint factory there. There's a slim chance we can get a job-" His voice broke suddenly and he waved a hand to close the sentence.

Yokohama?! That was practically on the other side of the country! Oh, how could he just pick up stakes and move? He'd be leaving all his friends behind! Didn't he care about her? She couldn't understand it! He wasn't a boy, dependent on his family – he was a man, for crying out loud! He didn't need to move! He could stay here! Didn't he see that? Why… How could….

The economy. That seemed to be the root of it all. Minako wanted to help, wanted to do something to ease Motoki's burden, but she had no clue what to do. Fighting extra-dimensional demon-minions bent on world domination was one thing, but how were you supposed to save the ones you loved from an economic recession?

Helpless. Minako felt so helpless.

Motoki apparently sensed her frustration. He smiled solemnly and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face up to meet his. "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay." His smile grew bigger. "Hey, why don't you bring the other girls some time this week for one last hurrah? Think of it – all the video games you can play, totally on the house! It's the least I can do for you all being such good customers over the years."

A small nod was all Minako could manage. She didn't trust herself to speak. The two of them exchanged further words, small talk for the most part, before Minako announced she had to go.

"Alright." Motoki walked her to the door. Once there, they both paused, unsure of what to do or say next.

"Good luck," Minako said. She extended her hand for a polite handshake, then, at the last second, withdrew it and threw herself on the man who still liked like a boy. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry about everything. I'm going to miss you." A tear slid down her cheek.

Nodding, Motoki stroked her long blonde hair. "Forget about it. I'll be fine and you will, too.

She wasn't too sure of that.

They hugged for a moment longer, then pulled apart. "Keep on savin' the world, okay?" Motoki grinned and wiped the tears from her face. "And I want you to know Sailor Venus is my favorite Sailor Soldier."

She bobbed her head for a nod and wished him good luck. Then she turned and left the arcade behind her. And it was over. Just like that. Five years of fond memories down the tube.

The tears began to fall again. Minako quickly wiped them away, feeling stupid at crying over something so dumb. But it wasn't dumb at all. Her sorrows were twofold. It wasn't just the arcade closing and it wasn't even all about Motoki moving away. It was a mixture of both elements. The closing of Crown Arcade had dealt Minako a crushing blow. It'd held a soft place in her heart for years now. For Minako, Crown Arcade sported many titles – a refuge during times when her mother was being particularly cruel, a place to just relax and let the burdens of everyday life pass on by… For a while, it'd even been the command center for the Sailor Soldiers.

And now, for it to just disappear…

And then there was Motoki. While not her first love, he also had an important place of high esteem in her heart and memories. Come to think of it, she'd always taken him for granted, always assumed he'd be there – an unchanged feature of the landscape.

No longer.

They were both going away forever.

…

Walking to Ueno Park took much longer than Minako had expected, but it didn't bother her. She needed some time to herself and the long walk proved to be just what the doctor ordered. No great insights to her problems were provided during the stroll, though. And the more she thought about it, the more hopeless the situation seemed.

_Poor Usagi_, Minako thought. _She'll flip when she hears the news. _Usagi never _did_ handle bad news well.Though all things considered, she'd probably handle it better than Minako had. She had a boyfriend, you see. Minako had …. Minako had nothing.

For most people, the stunning beauty of Ueno Park would've brought them to a screeching halt as soon as they passed through the entrance. Not so for Minako. For her, it was nothing more than the assigned location for the meeting later on tonight. She passed under the gorgeous pink canopies of cherry trees in bloom, completely oblivious to their beauty. The lush, rolling green landscape did nothing to improve her mood.

The sun blazed high in a cloudless sky and a few geese rode invisible air currents, squawking nosily on their way to their next destination. A few people, mostly retirees and children still too young for school, milled about leisurely, enjoying the nice weather. Minako watched all this unfold with uninterested eyes. She still had seven hours to kill. What on earth was she supposed to do between _now_ and _then_?

To eat up some of the time, she visited each of the park's three huge museums and in the process learned more than she ever wanted to know about Japanese history and agriculture. At five, a bunch of mimes gathered in front of Benten-do Temple and pretended to haul an invisible piano up five flights of invisible stairs. _That _was semi amusing. Two hours later, at promptly 7:26, Minako's stomach let loose with a frightening snarl, loud enough to be detected by seismologists twenty miles away, and she realized she hadn't eaten lunch _or_ supper. Foaming at the mouth, she dug around in her skirt pocket for food money. A buck and a quarter was all she came up with. Such a small sum wouldn't exactly cut it at the local McDonald's, so she ended up buying a small blueberry-flavored snow cone from one of the park's vendors.

She found a little bench in an out of the way area and plopped down. A ways ahead, a good-sized pond glittered – reflecting the sky back in shades of shimmering blue and gold. The geese that had been flying overhead earlier dove down into the water with a series of splashes and more squawking. Minako watched them flutter about, entranced by the sight.

As the minutes crept by, the sun crept lower and lower toward the ground. The blue sky turned a fiery red_. Red sky at night, sailor's delight._ Wasn't that how the saying went? Minako sighed and crushed her empty snow cone cup between her palms. She spent the next few minutes looking for a trashcan.

Anxiety welled up higher and higher within her as each second passed. As she sat there, on that bench, she began to have second thoughts about the whole thing. What was she doing sitting here by herself, waiting to meet a potential enemy? Had she lost her mind completely? Maybe it would've been better if she'd told Setsuna and had her come along. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so _uneasy_.

No. No, that wouldn't do. Minako was leader of the Sailor Soldiers and it was high time she proved it!

"I have to prove myself worthy as Usagi's protector." She spit the sentence out. Why had Usagi said that?

"_Aren't you guys supposed to be the legendary warriors assigned to protect me, the Moon Princess? Well, it seems to me that _I've_ been the one protecting you all lately. I'm giving you this opportunity to redeem yourselves as my protectors_." –That's what she'd said. She'd spoken it to the group – to Mercury and Jupiter as well as Venus, but Minako had felt targeted. Could she have picked anything _more_ hurtful and insulting to say? Maybe it'd been meant as a joke. Maybe. But Minako wasn't laughing.

Gah! What was taking this guy so long to show up?! It had to be past 8:00 by now. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and she was out of there, agreement or no agreement. Oh, well. At least the delay meant she could practice her lines for the commercial. Filming was scheduled for tomorrow.

Minako cleared her throat and screwed on a big, fake smile that displayed all her teeth. "You know, summer's just around the corner, and that means it's time to get into your swimsuit! But if you're like me, you might have some unsightly dimples. And not on your face, if you know what I mean." She shivered at the imaginary camera. "But worry no more! With Lilac Bliss, even your worst problem areas are a thing of the past! And it comes in three yummy scents! Lilac Bliss! Because cellulite should be-"

The skies darkened.

Minako frowned and looked up. The sun hadn't fully set yet, but things were becoming darker, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. The redness still painted the air, but it seemed muted somehow. The shouts and laughter of unseen crowds that had, up until that time, served as a constant part of the park's soundtrack, stopped abruptly. Minako arose from her seat. Her joints felt achy. It was hard to move. Hard to breathe.

"You came. I knew you would."

That same voice. The same one from last night's telephone call.

With a heavy effort, Minako turned around. She couldn't pinpoint where the voice had come from. Everywhere at once – that's what it sounded like.

"Wiseman?" Her voice sounded unnaturally low and muffled to her ears, as if she were somehow speaking underwater.

"Yes." The word echoed from up above, down below, from far off to the right, from near to the left. Everywhere at once.

Was that the voice of THE Wiseman – the Wiseman of the Black Moon Clan? Minako wracked her brain, trying to compare the two. Hmm. It was similar. Close. Close, but no cigar.

She swallowed. Maybe she should've at least brought along Artemis. Maybe she should've _told_ him what she was planning, should this Wiseman character decide to do away with her. At least that way, he'd know where to look for her body.

Oh, well. Too late now.

"Okay, I'm here." Minako tried to sound brave. "Why don't you-" She paused. She felt about like three seconds away from vomiting. Oh, what was wrong with her? Was this Wiseman doing something to her? "Why don't you tell me this big, big prediction of yours? You know, the one so big that to know it would be to risk world-wide panic?'

A chuckle from behind. Minako whirled around in that direction.

"You mock me?" Now the voice was coming from directly in front of her. "Could it be that you still doubt my power? Even after all I have shown you? A mall shooting in the United States, a government-sanctioned genocide in Ethiopia, an earthquake occurring here in Tokyo, Japan. I see all these things and they have each occurred just as I foretold. Do you need more proof than that?"

"No." Minako shook her head. She didn't know which way to look. This guy seemed to be omnipresent – existing in all places at once. He defiantly had some kind of otherworldly powers. And if that hunch proved correct, it was best to play it safe and seem respectful. For the time being, at least. "I'm sorry if I seem rude. Please. I'd really like to know this new prediction of yours."

"Yes, yes. But let's change the format, shall we?" The invisible presence sighed wearily as he entered some kind of trance. "Four years from now. An asteroid. The Earth."

Minako brought both hands up to her mouth to bite on her nails. The death toll came next.

Another sighed. Wiseman seemed to enjoy the suspense. Then he spoke once more: "Six billion, seven hundred and seven million, five thousand and three dead."

Silence followed. Terrible silence. Minako could do nothing but stand and gape at the empty space in front of her in disbelief. What had he just said? _Six billion_ people dead?! From an asteroid impacting the Earth?! Had she heard him right? No. No, no, no, no, no! A mistake. Had to be. Either she hadn't heard him right or he was messing with her or something! It couldn't be! No way!

"You're wrong!" She screamed it out, insulted he would think her so gullible. "If you're right, why haven't scientists noticed it already? Hmm? You'd think they'd take note of an interstellar body on a collision course with Earth!"

Silence followed, which made her even more upset. "Come on! You must really think I'm stupid! If it were true, it'd be all over the news! They'd be thinking of ways to blow it up or something before it reaches us, or something! Answer that, why don't you?!"

"Denial is always the first reaction to tragedy."

Minako clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bored into her palms, leaving bloody half-crescents.

"Maybe they simply don't know. Space is vast. Or perhaps they _do_ know, but do not wish to cause a panic. With an asteroid the size of India, I could see why, couldn't you?"

Minako put a hand to her head. An asteroid the size of India? No, way. Couldn't be. It simply had to be a joke. Or a ploy. Or … something.

The invisible Wiseman snickered. "Suddenly the situation with Motoki doesn't seem so serious, does it?"

_What? _Minako shot her head up."You're reading my mind, aren't you?"

Laughter.

"Are you friend or foe? Answer me! No offense, but I have a hard time believing you're anything _but_ an enemy after that little prediction of yours! You just told me six billion people are going to die and your voice didn't even break the slightest bit! Don't you care? You sit at home or wherever and spew your prophecies and don't even lift a finger to help! What kind of monster are you?!"

Something moved up ahead. "The kind of monster who knows that to create the future, one must shape it with his very own hands."

Oh, great. What was he saying now? _Nothing,_ Minako thought. _Doesn't matter. What matters now is this guy is an enemy and he's going DOWN!_

She raised a hand to the air. "Venus Crystal Power! MAKE-UP!"

Yellow-orange sparks shot up into the air, illuminating the faded twilight. Chimes sounded. And then-

"How dare you lure an unsuspecting cutie like me into your twisted web of lies and deceit! You're an enemy and enemies need to be punished! With the blessings of Venus, the planet of beauty, I am the Soldier of love – Sailor Venus, and I'll be happy to do the punishing!"

The space before her shimmered and rippled. A black shadow, formless and without feature, took shape.

There! Sailor Venus set her jaw and focused her strength inward. The air glittered gold. Then, just when she was going to shock Wiseman with the awe of love and beauty, he spoke once more.

"Wait. I want you to do something for me."

Venus laughed. The glitter took the shape of a long, beaded chain. Stunning flowers flaked in gold took to bloom at even intervals along it. "And what might that be? You want me to stand still long enough so you can kill me?"

The living shadow chuckled. "Of course not. You're already dead. You and the majority of this wretched planet don't have much longer to live, anyway. No. I want the Venus Crystal."

She gulped. So he _was_ an enemy. She'd thought so virtually from the beginning, but this was confirmation. So he wanted her Crystal, eh? Too bad.

"Tough! Now let's stop talking and get down to fighting!"

"Wait. Hear me out." The shadow moved closer. "I know all about you. I know you don't _really_ want to be a Sailor Soldier. It's just something you were forced into."

What a crock! Did he actually think she was going to fall for such a transparent attempt at-

A small white pinprick of light eased into existence near the top of the shadow. Small at first, then it grew. Bigger and bigger. Whiter and whiter. Venus tried to move, but couldn't. She couldn't take her eyes off that light.

"You were the first Sailor," the Wiseman continued. "Sailor V. Remember? It seems like such a long time ago doesn't it?"

"Yes." She couldn't help but speak.

"You've been at it for so long. So much longer than any of the others. And you're secretly fed up with it, aren't you?"

"No." The light… It was like a thousand suns!

"Minako. You're not being honest with yourself."

Sailor Venus tried to look away. But it was useless. She tried to move, tried to _think_, but couldn't. "Yes," she said.

"And you've always thought that if the chance came to leave the Sailors, you'd take it. Right? You don't want to be Sailor Venus forever, do you? What you really want is to be a world-famous idol. A movie star. A recording artist. That sounds so much better than devoting your life to something else, isn't it?"

Usagi's face flashed through her mind. Her face and the hurtful things she'd said.

"Isn't it?" He sounded so gentle.

"Yes," Venus whispered. "It's true. All of it. I don't like the path my destiny has laid out for me."

"Then forget it." The shadow was all over her now, caressing her body, playing with her hair. "Give me the Venus Crystal and I'll make it all go away. Oh, Minako, you can fulfill your dreams! All you have to do is-"

A shimmering golden iris suddenly appeared within the brightness of the light. Its pupil moved rapidly. It was entrancing. So beautiful.

"-give me the crystal. The Venus Crystal. Give me the crystal."

Venus could not tear her own eyes away from the one floating in mid-air. They burned and stung, and she realized she hadn't been blinking them. She couldn't look away. But she had to! Resist! Resist! She had to resist!

"The crystal. The crystal. Give me the Venus Crystal!"

No. No. No. No. No.

The eye grew wider. Its pupil danced wildly.

"The crystal! The crystal! Give me the Venus Crystal!

NO! _Resist, Minako! Please!_ Her mind screamed.

"ThecrystalthecrystalGIVEMETHEVENUSCRYSTAL!!"

Something snapped inside her mind. Something else was controlling her now. She had failed. Again. She had let the enemy in.

Like watching herself from across the room, Minako saw herself cup her hands out in front of her. She saw herself close her eyes. Then the air burst into a kaleidoscope of yellow light as the Venus Crystal took shape. It appeared in the air above her hands, star-shaped and about the size of a fist, then folded down upon itself until it was a twirling three-dimensional diamond-shape, roughly the size of a large marble. It glowed bright yellow, showcasing the glory of Venus.

The shadow reached out an inky tendril and snatched the crystal away.

The Sailor Venus transformation came undone with an eerie sigh and a burst of stars. Minako, reverted back to her school uniform, fell to the hard ground, unconscious.

A dark figure loomed over her, the crystal of Venus spinning in the air above one outstretched hand. "Rest well, Minako Aino. I, Wiseman, have provided you with a new destiny."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

For most people, the day begins with the sun. The sun rises at a certain time, usually around seven o'clock, and the day commences. Alarm clocks sound the hour, waking you from a restless (and all too brief) sleep, and from there, it's off to the shower. The essential cup of coffee comes next and by this time, you've shaken off most of the sleeping stupor. If you're lucky, you might be able to catch a quick bite to eat on the way to school or the office. For most people, mornings are a stressful jumble of chores and routines that absolutely must be completed in time for the _real_ day to start.

Not so for Rei Hino. Her day begins promptly at four a.m. – long before the sun makes its first appearance. A nice soothing bath is usually the first order of business for the day, followed by morning mediation, which can last anywhere from one to two hours. Then comes the sweeping of the temple's front steps, the stoking of the sacred fire, preparing breakfast, waking up Grandpa – all this before most people even get up. She never minded it. It was just part of her life. And besides, she usually got a good night's sleep to prepare her for the morning grind.

Usually, but not tonight.

Horrific dreams –things too terrible to be called simply "nightmares"- tormented her all through this particular night. They had no plot or any kind of story to them at all. Just emotions. Fear, hatred, greed, jealously and about a million other negative feelings pressed their appalling faces to hers in the dream world. It was terrifying. Each one came rushing in like a tidal wave, overtaking her, and then it would retreat and the next one would take its place. Several times, she thought she would die –by the great negative emotional overload alone. Part of her knew she was dreaming, but another part insisted it was real. And if it _were_ all a dream, she felt certain it was one from which she'd never awaken.

But four am arrived eventually, and Rei's internal clock went off, waking her up with a silent scream upon her lips. She bolted upright in her bed (which was more or less a sheet and a few pillows tossed on the floor). Still shaking, she took in the sight of her dark room – the plain, unadorned paper walls, the chipped wooden floor, the still-closed door to the closet.

Nothing. Nobody was there. No intruders, no burglars, no _monsters_, for that matter.

Yet she still felt watched.

The dream. It was all the dream's fault.

Rei shivered and arose. Even though she knew she was alone in her room, she still kept a wary eye open as she went over to the closet and dressed, putting on a new change of red and white miko vestments. Once more, she took in her surroundings – wanting to make absolutely certain nothing was in there with her. Her room was somewhat small and very, very plain. Besides the sheets and pillows on the floor that made up her bed and a few candles, the room was completely undecorated. No posters of big-haired boy bands hung on _these_ walls. Nope. Rei wasn't like that. Rei had always hated that kind of girl. The kind of girl that laughed and giggled at unfunny jokes made by men, who batted their eyes flirtatiously at guys twice their age, who pretended to need help opening a pickle jar or carrying "heavy" textbooks – all in a vain attempt to get some male's attention. That kind of behavior disgusted Rei Hino. She was repulsed that a girl had to act so stupid to get a man to notice her. And, truth be told, men themselves repulsed her as well. She didn't know for sure where her distaste for the opposite sex had originated from. Perhaps it'd all started when her no-good politician father abandoned her as a small child, or perhaps that act had activated some latent aspect of her personality that wouldn't have arisen had he chosen to stay. Whatever the case, it didn't matter much. Rei didn't care too much for men. They might like her, but that was their problem.

Now dressed and ready to tackle a new day, Rei tiptoed out into the outside hall and looked around. Dark. Good. The absence of light meant Grandpa was still asleep. He needed the rest. It wouldn't make him any better or healthier, but Rei thought it in his best interests. In his younger days, and in the days before his …illness, Grandpa had been a very hardworking man. Almost _too_ hardworking. Where Rei awoke at 4 am, he had been known to arise at 2 and commence with his own strenuous meditation that lasted well past the six o'clock mark. And while Rei was at school, he had been the one to run the shrine, selling charms to the visitors, keeping the place looking nice, or simply listening to the concerns of his Shinto congregation. At least that's what he did before he got sick. Before he got … the cancer. Now he slept most of the day. And when he wasn't asleep, he was up and about, trying to do the things that had been so easy to do back _then_ – a heartbreaking sight. It's a sad sight indeed to watch somebody you've known and loved your entire life realize they're no longer what they used to be. More than anything or anyone else, Rei loved her Grandfather. She loved him for taking her in to his home after her father had abandoned her, she loved him for passing on his strength and joy for life on to her, she loved him for … well, there were so many reasons.

A slight chill made the air outside still a tad bit nippy. Hues of oranges and browns and pinks colored the eastern sky as dawn bled into the heavens. Rei took in a breath full of the cool air and an eyeful of the beautiful sunrise. With a sunrise like that, it was hard to believe that such a thing as suffering existed. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

Enough of that. Time to get to work. Rei took tight hold of the bamboo broom in her hands and set to sweeping. The little cobblestone courtyard out front came first. She then moved below the red torii arch that served as a gateway to the place, sweeping up a storm as she went. But when she came to the top of the entrance stairs, she stopped.

There, at the foot of the stone steps, lay a crumpled body. _Just some alcoholic_, that was Rei's first impression. This kind of thing happened all the time. There were a lot of those idiotic dance-till-you-drop disco nightclubs along the same street as Hikawa Shrine. Clubs with outlandish names like "The Mega-Hot Room", or "The Luminescent Flamingo", or Rei's favorite – "The Heavymetal Nosebleed". They didn't open until midnight and stayed open until three am, discharging their blubbering, drunk-out-of-their-mind populace out into the streets. Indeed, Rei had lost track of the number of times she'd found some poor soul passed out at the foot of the entrance stairs or in the courtyard. It was their own fault, of course. If they were stupid enough to drink, they deserved to lay there in the gutter. Rei never helped any of them.

But this passed-out form was different, somehow. A _girl_, for one thing. Most all of the plastered morons were male. (_A fact_, thought Rei. _Use it as you wish_.) And this was a girl. The massive jumble of long blonde hair made that clear. A red bow stuck to the back of the head, keeping all that hair in check.

Rei eyed the girl with contempt. Who would allow their child to go out at four in the morning and party? What type of parents would give _that_ the green light? What type of _girl_ would do such a thing? What a shame. What a shame that-

Wait a second. A red bow? Blonde hair?

"_Minako!!_"

The broom clattered to the ground as Rei took off down the steps like a rocket. When she reached the bottom, she took hold of her friend in both her arms, horrified at the way Minako's head rolled back lifelessly.

"Minako! Minako, wake up! Come on!!"

A sudden thought struck her then, clear and horrific. A heart attack. Minako had suffered a heart attack while on her way to visit her and now she was dead. One part of Rei's brain spoke up, saying it was impossible. Eighteen-year-old girls do _not_ have heart attacks. _But some do_, another part responded. And with her grandfather in the way he was in, she figured a heart attack sounded about right.

And then, just when she'd given up all hope of ever seeing her friend alive again, Minako yawned and stretched – looking very much like a sweet, innocent baby bird waking up in a _Loony Tunes_ cartoon. With a sigh, she opened her eyes. "Hi, Rei."

For a moment, Rei was furious. The whole thing was some kind of immature trick, no doubt. The plan being to scare her senseless. But as Minako awoke more and more, she could see that it wasn't a joke at all. She really did looked puzzled, as if she had gone to bed in her room and woken up here, at Hikawa Shrine a moment later.

She turned frightened eyes up toward Rei. "Where am I? I don't…. I don't remember coming here! Why … why am I here?!" Hysteria gripped her voice. "_What's going on_?!"

Rei put a firm hand around Minako's shaking shoulders. Minako needed something firm and solid to take hold of. The poor girl was flipping out. "Calm down. Just calm down. Let's go to my room."

Five minutes later, and over a hot cup of coffee, Minako had done a 180. She sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of Rei's room, sipping her drink slowly. The act seemed to take a tremendous effort, for she keep her eyes lowered and fixated on the cup as it rose and fell to and from her lips.

"Are you okay?" Rei asked as she brushed the back of her hand up against Minako's forehead. She didn't _feel_ feverish. "Are you sick?"

"No. I'm fine." She smiled faintly, clearly embarrassed. "It's just that … I don't know how I ended up here. The last thing I remember…" Her voice trailed off. Her brows knotted together. "The last thing I remember, I was going somewhere to meet somebody…"

"At four o'clock in the morning?" Rei scoffed.

"No. It was earlier. It had something to do with _something_." Minako applied a hand to the side of her head. "Trying to remember hurts."

_Something to do with something. _How very unhelpful. Rei sat on the floor across from Minako, thinking about all the chores she had yet to do, about the time that was slipping away, and she was sorely tempted to just get up and say "Go home and figure it out by yourself." (In a nicer way, of course.) But she didn't. The entire day loomed ahead, and the chores could wait. Right now, her friend needed help. Medical help, maybe. Amnesia? Passing out in random places? It sounded quite serious. And then there was the business of this person she'd mentioned going to meet. Another would-be boyfriend, most likely. Yet Rei felt uneasy. The confrontation at the ground-zero earthquake site still lingered fresh in her mind. The short fight between her and that mysterious figure, and how he (or she) had so effortlessly deflected her strongest attack, and how the earthquake itself had been caused deliberately – probably by the same mysterious figure. It had happened two days ago, but felt much longer than that.

A new enemy prowled the streets. And now Minako was sneaking around meeting people whom she couldn't remember. It didn't exactly bode well.

"Minako, take my hands."

She did.

"You're safe here, understand? Nothing can harm you here." But even as she spoke this, Rei wasn't exactly sure how truthful she was being. That dream, that _nightmare_, still hung heavy in the air above her. "You can tell me what happened. You can tell me because you're safe. You can remember now. Just listen to my voice and remember." Rei spoke in soothing tones, hating the way she sounded – like a corny mind reader at some hick carnival – but it couldn't be helped. They had to get to the bottom of it all. They couldn't just ignore the enemy. And Rei was sure Minako's amnesia was the work of the enemy.

"Listen to my voice and relax_. Remember_."

"But I can't!" Minako wrung her hands out from Rei's clasp in frustration. "I've already told you! I had this meeting, only I can't remember where, and then Wiseman came and I-"

Rei arched a quizzical eyebrow. "What did you say?"

Sighing dramatically in such a way that really showed off Minako's soap opera acting chops, she started in again – the way a mother might speak to an especially forgetful child. "I had some kind of meeting I had to go to. I can't remember anything more than that. Only that Wiseman-" The rest of the sentence faded away. Minako's big blue eyes went wide with sudden understanding. Memory can be a fickle thing. Like a spoiled child, it sometimes just packs up bags and leaves home for a bit, testing to see whether or not you truly appreciate it or just take it for granted. Sometimes it returns, sometimes it doesn't. And if it doesn't come back, you can spend the rest of your life agonizing over the little things you've forgotten during the course of your life. You can get so wound up in remembering the past, you forget about the present – and then there's no hope for any kind of future.

Thankfully though, Minako was spared this injustice. She was _remembering_. The name "Wiseman" had set off some kind of chain reaction and now the memories came flooding back in crashing waves.

Like the waves of hatred and fear in Rei's dream.

"I remember! I remember!" Minako grinned from ear to ear. "After we stopped that shooter at Tokyo Tower, I got a call from someone calling himself 'Wiseman'. It was the same guy who predicted the shooting and all those other disasters." She held up a hand before her face and counted off fingers as she recalled these past events. "He wanted to meet in the park. Eight o'clock."

"And you accepted?!" Rei burst out. She couldn't help it. Why hadn't she asked for someone to go along with her? What on earth could possibly have possessed her to agree to a one-on-one meeting with a possible enemy?

Sensing Rei's incredulousness, Minako was quick to defend her actions. "He told me to come alone! If I'd brought anyone else, he would have known about it! And besides…" She looked back down at her cup, which at the moment was depleted of coffee. "It was something I had to do by myself. I had to prove that I could stand on my own two legs for a change."

Rei could understand. Grandpa was the same way. To ask for help was a sign of weakness. She nodded once, encouraging Minako to go on with the story.

"That's about it. He gave me another prediction, but I'd rather wait and tell it to everyone later on. …When we're all together."

Another prediction? It couldn't be too serious. Otherwise, she wouldn't be waiting to tell it.

"Then he attacked me."

For a minute, Rei wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. The nightmare roared to the front of her brain again. "_Attacked_ you? What happened?"

Minako shrugged and continued on as if she were reading aloud from a _TV Guide_. "He attacked me. Or at least I think he did. That part of my memory is still really fuzzy."

"Minako!"

"Don't worry! You see me sitting here in front of you, right? Not a scratch on me, right? That means I kicked his butt. I won and he put me under some kind of wongo spell to make me forget all about it. Only he underestimated the great recollection power of Sailor Venus! Then after that, I guess I must've stumbled my way over here to the shrine 'cause I knew you'd be here and help me out." She smiled and gave a big V-for-victory sign, bringing the discussion to a close.

_She_ seemed to have put the matter out of sight, out of mind – but Rei wasn't so at ease. She had a nagging suspicion that Minako was putting on a brave face, that deep down inside, she wasn't nearly as nonchalant about it as she appeared to be. The phrase that Minako had spoken a few minutes before came to mind with sudden clarity: _I had to prove that I could stand on my own two legs for a change. _Something lingered behind those words, something that spoke of a greater truth about the other girl's sense of self worth. Maybe-

"Can I have some more coffee?"

The delving into Minako's psyche would have to wait. Rei reached out and took hold of the empty cup, all the while suspecting that this was just a clever attempt to change the subject.

Cup in hand, Rei walked out into the hall, on her way to the kitchen to get the refill. But she didn't make it there. Halfway down the corridor, a ladder blocked the path ahead. Odd. Had it been there before? No, she would've seen it. So then-

"Mornin', Rei."

She turned and saw Grandpa pop out from behind a corner, already dressed, with a tool belt fastened around the waist of his white and blue priest robes. Seeing him there, with that bulky belt on and the array of screwdrivers and hammers hanging from it was a comical sight. Holy Shinto attire and tool accessories defiantly don't go together. He looked like some kind of strange Bob Vila / Dalai Lama mix.

But that's where the humor ended. There was no denying the way his robes hung on him – like rags on a scarecrow. He'd lost so much weight from the chemo. Now he looked like a walking skeleton, already with one foot in the grave. His once feisty blue eyes – eyes that at one time had been so full of life and energy, it was almost off-putting – were now two empty billiard balls sunk deep into cavernous eye sockets. And that wasn't the worst of it. Even well into his seventies, Grandpa had always boasted a full head of flaxen blonde hair (albeit with a few streaks of white). How many times had he bragged about that? He loved his hair and the fact that he actually _had_ some. But now all that remained of his greatest feature were a few sad, stubborn wisps clinging to the great white dome that was his scalp. That had been chemo's doing. Rei had to force herself to look at him.

Grandpa smiled, a hideous black parody of a grin, thanks to his chapped lips and bleeding gums – again thanks to the chemo. "Hope I didn't wake you," he said. His voice sounded like a death rattle.

"No, I've been awake." Rei stood ramrod straight as her grandfather hobbled past her on his way to the ladder. What was he planning to do? He looked very much like he was in pain.

Then, to her horror, Grandpa stuck out one trembling wooden sandal-clad foot and began to climb the ladder. She didn't need her ESP abilities to know this was a bad idea. Suppose he got dizzy up there and fell? What then? Reflexively, she ran to his aide and put a gentle hand around his too-thin waist. "What are you doing?"

"Patching up the roof, sweetie." He gestured upward. "There's a hole in it the size of China."

Rei glanced up but didn't see a thing. She put the empty cup she'd been holding onto on the floor to begin the difficult task of talking Grandpa down off the ladder. It would have to be done delicately, of course. She'd have to humor him. His male ego was so fragile. "Let's just come down from there. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll patch it up later."

Undaunted, Grandpa continued up another step. "It has to be done now, or else the whole blasted roof will come caving in the next time it rains." Another step.

Honestly! Why did he have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he see that he was in no shape to go gallivanting around tackling stupid little home improvement chores? Was it some kind of idiotic male pride that kept him from admitting that he was sick and couldn't do the things he'd done before? How childish.

Trying to keep her frustration hidden, Rei took hold of the back of his robe with one hand, lightly enough so he wouldn't fall backward, but with enough force to show that she meant business. "Grandpa, why don't you just come on down? You know how you get these days. Come on down and I'll make you some nice tea. How does that sound?"

"Please don't talk to me like a child," said Grandpa, in a voice quite unlike his usual tone. And, despite belief, continued up another step.

Rei could see the ladder swaying. "Come down."

"It'll only take a minute."

"No!" By now the exasperation was clearly evident in both Rei's posture and voice. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Just a minute!"

"Come on!"

"I'll be fine!"

"Now!"

"Hold your horses."

_It's going to fall_, that's what Rei would've said. But she didn't have to do any more convincing, because just at that moment, the ladder pitched to the right violently. Grandpa made a surprised "Uaah" noise and fell backwards. Both he and the ladder came crashing down at the exact same time, but Rei's quick reflexes kicked in and she leapt forward and caught her grandfather in her arms at the last second. It wasn't difficult. She didn't have to strain herself. The man must've weighed no more than 80 pounds.

"Ooh." Grandpa put a quivering hand to his neck and massaged it. "I guess I'll have to take it slower next time."

The last bit of patience Rei had snapped like a rubber band. She could practically hear the noise it made. _Snak!!_ "The next time?! The _next _time?! Let me tell you something: there won't _be_ a next time! You're sick, okay? That means you'd better come out of this stupid testosterone cloud you're under and face facts! I'm tired of beating around the bush with you! Go ahead and try to fix the roof again! Just don't expect me to come pick you off the floor when you break every bone in your body!"

Never before had she ever spoke to her grandfather like that. As far as she was concerned, he was the most handsome, smartest, kindest, strongest man she'd never known. A true idol. Back during her little girl days, she'd looked up to him like a god. But that was before he got sick and lost all manner of common sense. And now there he was, a living corpse of a man, looking up at her like some kind of teary-eyed puppy. Well, he'd get no sympathy from her! Maybe that'd been the problem, her humoring him and giving in to his delusions of grandeur. Not anymore. From now on, _she_ was the boss.

"Oh," said Grandpa. "Yes. I see. You're right. I guess I'll be going now." Grunting and huffing, he made his way to his feet with no help from Rei. Even had he asked, she wouldn't have helped him. He had to learn to _listen _when people told him things!

She watched him trudge back down the hall toward his room. The paper door slid shut behind him. Through it, the faintest sound of sobbing could be heard.

Rei sighed wearily and picked up the ladder from the floor. It'd taken out a priceless antique vase in the fall. The heirloom now lay in pieces on the floor. Great. And she still couldn't see that hole he'd been talking about. Had it ever really existed in the first place?

"Is everything okay? I heard shouting."

Half of Minako's body was peeking out from behind the door to Rei's room.

"Everything's fine. We just had a little accident."

Minako walked down the hall to help Rei with the shattered remnants of the vase. "Was that your grandpa's voice I heard?"

Rei nodded.

"Is something … wrong with him? I mean…"

Fabulous. Now she had to explain it all! Why couldn't people just mind their own business? Rei looked her friend square in the face. Even though Minako was one of Rei's very best friends, that didn't entitle her to know every single thing about her life, did it? Honestly!

"He's sick," she said. And then, because something more seemed to be expected, "Cancer."

And now the questions would come. Moronic needless questions like "_How long_?" and "_How bad_?' and the ever popular "_What kind_?" Like it really made a frickin' difference.

But they didn't come. Instead, Minako embraced Rei in a tight hug and whispered, "I'm so sorry." Three simple words. Yet those three words broke down all the defenses Rei had installed since the terrible news had arrived. They were said with such tender love and care and genuine sympathy, Rei couldn't help but to weep with gratitude. An odd thing, too, since she hadn't allowed herself to cry at all since … then. The random tear may have sneaked past the barricade once or twice, but open crying? Never.

The sob fest continued on for a good three minutes and when it was over, Rei pulled apart from Minako with a mixture of relief and embarrassment at having displayed her emotions so openly. "Thanks," she said. "I needed that."

"Poor Rei." Minako held one of Rei's hands in one of hers and stroked her long, black hair with the other. Like the mother she'd never known.

"It's just …. I know he's going to die and-"

Minako opened her mouth to refute the truth.

"No, no. He _will_ die. It's some kind of rare cancer. Only one out of thirty million get it, so yeah. The chemo treatments are just a formality. He seems to have made his peace, but _me_? I – I-" The tears made a reappearance. "When he dies, I'll be all alone!" Now she was sobbing again. Uncontrollably. The truth was coming out. "He's the only family I have and I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

The two girls collapsed to the floor in a crying huddle. Minako took Rei to her breast and blew gentle air onto Rei's forehead to clam her down. "You're wrong, honey. You couldn't be more wrong."

Rei looked up through puffy red eyes at her friend. "Whatdoyamean?"

"I'm part of your family, too." She smiled. Such a warm loving smile. Almost maternal. "And not just me, but Usagi, and Ami, and Makoto. And Haruka, Michiru, Setsuna, Hotaru, Mamoru, Luna, and Artemis. Do you want me to go on? 'Cause we could be here all night."

Rei wiped away a tear. Sometimes the truth can be so obvious you overlook it.

"See? You're not as alone as you might think."

How very true. Rei took Minako in her arms and kissed her forehead. "Thanks. Really." She smiled. "When did you get to be so mature?"

Minako shrugged and laughed. "Another one of my hidden talents!"

By now, the rays of the newly arisen sun were shining through the windows and out into the hall. Rei stood up and brushed off her robes. "Wow. There's no telling how late it is. You better get moving if you want to make it to school."

"Forget it," Minako waved a hand in the air. "I don't start exams until tomorrow. But what about you?"

"Well …. the last day of exams for me was yesterday, and considering I didn't go…"

Minako gasped.

"Yes. That means I officially failed high school. No graduation for me." She laughed. "Not that I mind. I never wanted to go to college anyway."

"Me neither. Not really."

The girls headed outside and stood looking out over the city as it stirred to life. In the morning sun Tokyo sparkled like a diamond.

"I want to call a Sailor meeting later on," said Rei. "I want to try a fire-reading to weed out this new enemy. And if that doesn't work, Michiru's mirror might come in handy."

Minako nodded. "Whatever you want to do."

Rei slipped her hand into Minako's and squeezed. Minako squeezed back.

"Thanks for understanding. I know I can be kind of aloof and distant sometimes, but I really value our friendship. It means a lot to me."

"And to me too."

"Yes."

"And you say you've _never_ farted?"

Rei had to smile at that. It was a little inside joke shared by just the two of them. "No. Never. Don't mix me up with you."

She wasn't alone. She would never be alone.

…

A few blocks away, at Juuban High School, Usagi was feeling equally optimistic - though why that should be was anyone's guess. She sat outside in the hallway, across from her classroom, trying hard to think positive thoughts. Today marked the beginning of the first round of final exams, which wouldn't be so bad except that somehow, through some hideous twist of fate, her English exam was leading the pack. Usagi hated English! It was her worst subject! Why couldn't one of her better classes be first? Something like … um … um …. well, anything but English!

A conspiracy. Had to be.

In any case, for this test, Usagi was going to try something different: not worrying. It occurred to her, last night in bed, that in the past, before every test, she would get so worked up and anxious about it that it was only natural she'd fail. Provided, of course, that she hadn't forgotten about it prior. Now things were going to be different. Now that she wasn't freaking out over it, she'd probably make a D! Maybe even (gasp) a _C_!

"Hey, Usagi. Ready to take the plunge?"

Naru Osaka. No mistaking _that_ accent.

"Yep. I'm ready to get it out of the way, that's for sure."

Naru smiled and ran a hand through her curly red hair. "You seem pretty confident. You must've pulled an all-nighter."

Ah, yes. How typical that she would assume such a thing. Now Usagi could reveal her super secret test-taking strategy tips to the world. "Actually, I didn't study at all. I figure, I go to English class every day and while I'm there, my brain subconsciously takes in all the information like a sponge. If I study too hard and try to force that information out, data constipation ensues. It's better to let it flow naturally."

"So you didn't study."

"Well … no."

The final warning bell rang, signaling that the dark days of exams had finally descended over the school like a god-sent curse. "Well, I haggled Umino into tutoring me all last week, but I'm still kinda nervous." Naru sighed and headed for class. "This is it, you know? The last days of our high school experience."

"Don't worry so much!" Usagi exclaimed cheerfully. She gave her friend a big slap on the back to act as a confidence booster. "We'll conquer all our exams and then go to college together! It'll totally _rock_!"

Naru muttered something and they broke apart. She headed toward her seat at the front of the room, while Usagi plopped down in her assigned place near the window. And there she sat. The clock over the chalkboard clicked the seconds away in loud, rhythmic chucking noises that pierced the silence of the room. The battle to pass high school would commence when the big hand struck the 12.

Sitting there, at her table by the window, Usagi wondered if maybe she should do some last-minute studying. Everyone else was. Save for the maddening clicking of the clock, the place was dead quiet. Rows and rows of students sat unmoving at their desks, their English texts open, their eyes moving hurriedly over pages, trying to cram in some last-second vocab and grammar into an already full brain. Usagi pitied them all. They didn't know the secret.

Still … maybe some last-minute cramming wouldn't hurt. She had that little Japanese to English translation booklet in her satchel – the one Ikuko-Mama had given her at the start of high school, under orders to "Study for a change". Maybe…

No. What good would that do? She knew the material. It was just a matter of subconscious recollection. So no. She knew what she was doing. She was about to prove her theory – that the advice to study was just a false teaching, a way for those tyrannical educators to impose their wills upon the innocent student populace.

The big hand struck the 12.

At that moment, Mrs. Harrison, Juuban High's plump, bespectacled English teacher breezed through the door with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. "Okay, class! Put all books and notes away and take out a number 2 pencil!"

She sounded so pleasant. So cheery. Well, _HA_! Mrs. Harrison couldn't fool Usagi! She knew better. Yessiree. Usagi knew what lurked behind that big fake smile and nice demeanor. Evil. All teachers were the same.

Mrs. Harrison began to pass out the exam. They came filtering back from the front of the room. Back and back and back. Then, finally, Usagi received hers.

GENERAL ENGLISH – that's what it said on the coversheet, in big, black no-nonsense type font. Below that was a place for NAME and THE DATE.

Hmph. Easy enough. Grinning wide, Usagi took her trusty number 2 pencil and wrote "Usagi Tsukino" under NAME and "March 10th" under THE DATE. There. Now she'd be assured _at least_ a 10 for filling in those two boxes. Things were going great! She'd never felt so clam and relaxed during a test before.

Before charging full steam ahead, Usagi took a moment to glance around at the other students. Poor unfortunate souls. Naru sat at the front of the class and even though Usagi couldn't see her face, she could tell by her hunched shoulders and non-visible neck that things weren't working out well for her. Behind her and a little to the right sat Umino. With his crazy mop of sandy hair and eyeglasses the size of headlights, the poor kid looked like some kind of hairy housefly. He didn't seem to be having any trouble. He was already on page three, his pencil flying so quickly across the page; it was libel to burn a hole in the paper.

Okay. Time to get down to business. Usagi opened the small novel before her and the first thing she did was flip to the back of the test to see how many questions there were. What she saw startled her. One hundred and three questions spanning fifteen pages. One hundred and _four_ if you counted the bonus question.

Outrageous! Who did that Mrs. Harrison think she was, torturing them like this?! No way she could finish it in the allotted time given. They only had three hours! Why hadn't the teacher warned them, told them ahead of time how many questions there would be?! Why couldn't she have extended that common courtesy?

Then again, maybe she _had_. It was then, at that precise moment, that Usagi realized she couldn't remember one single thing that had happened during the course of her English class. Not a thing. Panicking, she tried to summon up something, but got only a blurry image of Mrs. Harrison writing on the chalkboard, reviewing English sentence construction.

Not good.

Yet all was not lost. Usagi had been taking English courses since her middle school days. Maybe she had retained some knowledge through it all. Really, you couldn't go through all those classes without remembering _something_ … could you? Surely not. Usagi turned back to the start of the test. Fill-in-the-blank. Okay. She could do this.

First question: "I took my for a walk."

Okay. That was "dog". I took my dog for a walk. Usagi smiled to herself with the happy knowledge that she'd already gotten through the first half of the first question. Now she had to pick the English word for "dog" out of the word-box at the top of the page. Inside the little black box were the words: "Tree", "Swimsuit", "Dog", "Beach", "Parakeet" and many more. They all looked like Greek to Usagi. Or better yet, English, which was just as confusing as Greek.

Once again, Usagi tried to force a memory to the surface of her mind, but got only static. She'd have to randomly pick. She frowned deeply and took her pencil lightly by the lead tip and suspended it in the air over the word-box, as if the correct word would somehow pull the pencil toward it by magic.

It seemed to hover over "Parakeet". Was that right, though? She seemed to vaguely remember hearing that word when they were going over the Animal Section of their books. Parakeet, dog. Dog, parakeet. Hmm. English and Japanese words sounded so different from each other. It was no use trying to compare the two that way.

I took my parakeet for a walk. _Seemed_ okay. And now Usagi was sure she'd heard that word before in the Animal Section. So "parakeet" it was.

Even with the first question out of the way, Usagi still had 102 more to go (she had no desire to attempt the bonus question). Frustration seized her in its iron claws and she found herself on the verge of tears. Why did she have to learn English anyway?! It made _no_ sense! All the words sounded the same and the grammar was just wack. How did people speak it? One thing was for sure, though – when she became Queen, the first order of business would be to make Japanese the official language of Earth. Yeah, that would be easier for all parties. And – and – and – _and why won't that stupid clock SHUT UP?!_

Movement up ahead.

Usagi looked up and was simultaneously shocked by two things. The first being Umino getting up from his desk and handing in his already finished exam to the teacher. The other being that she'd wasted a good twenty-eight minutes while agonizing over the first question. At this rate, she'd never finish. It wasn't her fault. There were just too many distractions; the infuriating clock, the noise of the other students scratching away on their answer sheets, the hoopla from outside…

From her seat by the window, Usagi had the perfect vantage point to see any interesting goings-on down below. Now, all the non-senior students were helping set up the end of year festival. Some helped set up tents that would later be occupied by various clubs, while others busied themselves making colorful signs and decorations. Off to the far end of the schoolyard, a mini-Ferris wheel was under construction. The festival was meant as a final get-together for all the students before the seniors (who got to eat and ride the rides for free) left and broke apart from the place that had been their home for so many years - to chase their dreams of the future, whether that meant going to a university or joining the military, or driving cross country. The future was wide open from here.

It was a nice thing to do at the end of the year, meeting up with all your friends one last time. But right now, Usagi was totally distracted by the hammering and talking and laughing going on outside. It wasn't fair that that they, the underclassmen, were out there laughing and yukkin' it up, while the seniors, who the festival was more or less _for_, had to stay cooped up inside until they finished their exams!

Another person finished with their test and exited the room.

At that moment, Usagi knew she had to do something. She couldn't stay in that classroom a moment longer. The clock would drive her mad. She decided to just randomly answer questions. The only problem was, she didn't know the material well enough to do even that.

Up near the front of the room, Naru pushed her chair back and headed for the teacher's desk, completed exam in hand.

To heck with it. Usagi closed the test shut and cleared her desk of all the pencils and erasers she'd brought. She headed toward Mrs. Harrison, making sure to keep her head down low at all times. She didn't want to see the woman's expression when she handed in the blank exam.

Mrs. Harrison took it with a smile on her face and opened her mouth to say something. Usagi turned quick on her heels and fled the classroom, her long blonde pigtails bouncing away behind her.

Mrs. Harrison blinked and shrugged. "I was just going to wish her a happy vacation. Oh, well." She opened Usagi's test in front of her. "Let's see if Ms. Tsukino studied for a change."

…

When Haruka dropped Hotaru off at school that morning, Hotaru exited the car without so much as a "goodbye". She didn't trust herself to speak, lest she unknowingly reveal her grand plan to skip school. It was a brave and daring plan. For good girl Hotaru, anyway. With the end of the school year mere days away, it wasn't like they were going to go over any new material. Besides, Hotaru had straight A's in all her courses. So it wasn't going to be a travesty if she missed a day. Of course you couldn't explain that to Haruka and the other prison guards. Had they know what Hotaru was planning, they would've balked. School, school, school. That was their annoying little motto. "You have to go to school if you want to be a nurse, Hotaru." That's what they said. Being a nurse had always been a dream of Hotaru's, but recently, she'd been questioning that desire. _Why_ did she want to be a nurse? What had set off that inclination inside her head? For as long as she could remember, that had been her unspoken dream: nursing. Maybe it had to do with the fact that for as long as she could remember, she'd been sick. Frail. Back then, back in her former life (as she'd come to call it in the years since), her body and her mind had been two independent forces. Her mind had been strong and capable, but her poor sick body just wasn't up to the challenge of everyday life. Attacks and seizures loomed over every day and usually occurred every night.

But that was then. Her old life ended with her awakening as the solider of Saturn, Sailor Saturn, and along with that awakening and subsequent rebirth came a new and clear future for her, clean bill of health included. In the back of her mind, Hotaru had always known that her wanting to be a nurse had to do with the fact that she _was_ sick and the hope that maybe, some day far ahead into the future, that profession could aid her in finding a cure for the sickness that ailed her. But now that she was healthy, where did that leave her dream?

All she knew for sure was that Satoshi Yomata figured in prominently into her future. Thus the whole skipping school thing. It'd been difficult figuring out a way to make it work. Faking sick and staying home was out of the question since Setsuna was a nurse herself and could instantly see through any of Hotaru's "pseudo symptoms" in a heartbeat. Besides, her whole reason for skipping school was to sneak in to the high school and surprise Satoshi with a visit. If she stayed home, it would've been a loooong walk, seeing how the city still hadn't lifted the ban on public transportation.

So in the end, Haruka drove Hotaru to school just as she had every day since elementary school. And for the first time, Hotaru felt embarrassed as the supped-up Ferrari roared into the middle school drop-off circle. It wasn't that the other kids were pointing and making comments (as far as the other kids were concerned, she didn't exist anyway). Rather, it was just a feeling that she couldn't explain. A sense of pent-up frustration, perhaps. Or maybe…

_Maybe I'm just growing up_, she thought as she slammed the car door shut behind her.

Hotaru walked a few steps and turned around. The traditional goodbye wave came next. It always did. But for some reason, this day was different. The instant the door clacked into place, Haruka revved the engine and sped away, leaving a trail of black ozone-murdering exhaust in her wake. Hotaru frowned. Did Haruka sense something? Had she somehow guessed Hotaru's plan? She _had_ been unusually quiet on the trip down. Normally, Haruka chatted the drive to school away – talking about sports or cars (things Hotaru didn't have the least bit of interest in). But still… Something was the matter. Hotaru had been sensing it hovering in the air between Haruka and Michiru for some time now. The atmosphere at home was tense. To say the least. Most of the tension seemed to be radiating off of Michiru. Of course, she never said anything about what was bothering her. (The perfect prissy lady? Oh, goodness no!) And Hotaru couldn't care less. If Haruka could put up with her silence during meals and the way she ran up to bed immediately after and the way in which she herself had to sleep in the guestroom because Michiru wouldn't let her in bed, so be it. Hotaru didn't care. They had their lives, she had hers.

Hotaru lingered at the school's entrance for a few minutes longer. She had be certain that Haruka wouldn't pop around the corner to make sure she'd gotten to school safely. When she was sure the coast was clear, Hotaru zipped around the side of the school and made a dash for the world beyond the gates, just as the morning bell rang in the new school day.

There. She'd done it. She'd skipped school. Such a trivial thing, to be sure, but an offense nonetheless. She felt like a criminal as she ran along the city street. A criminal on escape from the law. She felt bad, which was good.

Thankfully, the high school wasn't all that far from the middle school and the distance in between could be easily traveled on foot. Hotaru had only gone a short distance when the sound of laughter and loud metal clanking reached her ears. It seemed to be coming from the high school. She turned down the short road that led to it and stopped dead.

The entire campus writhed with students as if all the teenagers had somehow congealed into one massive, pulsating wave-like entity. They stretched as far as the eye could see, contained only by the brick wall that separated the school grounds from the rest of the city. Looking closely, one could just make out the tops of a few randomly scattered tents and booths sticking up above the crowd. And over at the far end of the yard stood the beginnings of a small Ferris wheel! In fact, there were a number of other rides under construction all around the place. A small kiddy roller coaster in the shape of a green caterpillar took up a space to the east, while a group of men in blue jumpsuits were setting up a knockoff version of the magic tea-cup ride at Disney World with a little help from some students next to it. Stretched across the space between the school and the trees of the yard were several strings with a few glass lamps of different colors hanging from them.

The place exuded such a feeling of lightheartedness and sheer joy that Hotaru had to smile. All the worries of an uncertain future and the anxiety she felt at home melted away. Everybody seemed to be having so much fun. Judging by the laughter in the air and the smiles on the student's faces, one would've guessed the festival was already on instead of being set up.

Could Satoshi be among them? Hotaru strained her eyes to seek him out, but at her distance, she couldn't really make out faces. Besides, all the boys looked the same in their uniforms.

Then it couldn't be helped. She'd just have to go down there amongst them. _Too bad_, she thought merrily.

Feeling like a salmon wading upstream (and a little like a stalker), Hotaru slipped into their ranks. She kept one eye busy looking for Satoshi. With the other, she took in the festive sights of the growing jamboree. Dressed in her bright middle school uniform, Hotaru did feel a little out of place among the more somberly colored high schoolers, but nobody said anything nor asked any questions about her presence and she was able to walk right into the stronghold like she owned the place.

"Excuse me," she said, taking a random student by the arm. "Do you know where I can find Satoshi Yomata?"

"I don't know who that is," came the reply.

Hotaru nodded and said her thanks just the same. She moved a little deeper into the people-pit and asked another.

"He should be over at the astronomy club's tent," said the student (a boy carrying a handful of balloons). "Why don't you check over there?" He gestured vaguely north.

Once again, Hotaru nodded and said thanks. She pushed deeper still into the swirling mix of students, looking for the astronomy tent. It didn't take long to find it. It appeared to be the only tent that was already finished and set up. It stood at the very end of the schoolyard, wedged between the school itself and what looked to be like a large dance floor still under contruction. The whole thing was draped in voluminous black sheets, giving it the appearance of some hastily made child's fort constructed out of a couple of chairs and a bed sheet. But the little plastic stars that somebody had glued onto them did liven things up a bit. Two relatively large posters had been propped up against the tent's information table. One read "Juuban High Astronomy Club" in bright glittering blue symbols, and below that were the words "Come Gaze into the Sky With Us!" A crude, hand-drawn representation of the solar system served as the backdrop. It was the type of thing a passerby wouldn't look twice at. The other poster, however, proved to be more interesting.

"Come See the Mysterious TENTH PLANET Of Our Solar System!" It proclaimed. "A Startling New Discovery! HISTORY in the MAKING!" And below that rather bold declaration was an eight-by-ten glossy printout depicting space. Hotaru frowned a bit and leaned in close to the photo. She didn't see anything. Just an endless field of stars.

She shrugged and turned around just in time to see Satoshi exit the school building. At the sight of him, an involuntary smile broke out on Hotaru's face and she reached into her skirt's pocket for something. Out came the button. _His_ button. The one he'd given to her as a confession of his love for her two nights ago. It seemed to vibrate in her hand. Or perhaps her increased heart rate was making it seem that way. The button. It'd become her most prized possession in life. She kept it on her person at all times. Even when bathing, she either had it within arm's reach or physically held on to it while in the tub. She was afraid that if she lost it, she would also lose the love of the only boy who'd ever cared for her. The only person that had given her a second glance. And to loose that would be like loosing life itself.

She kissed the button once and tucked it safely away again. She looked around quickly for Satoshi and saw him coming right at her. He was reading from a stack of papers as he walked and hadn't seen her yet. Under one arm was a long, slender plastic case of some kind. He looked deep in thought.

Laughing quietly to herself, Hotaru snuck around the astronomy club's tent and peered out from the side. She watched as Satoshi handed the papers to some unseen student, mumbling something as he did so. He then bent down on the grass in front of the tent and unsnapped the case he'd been carrying around, pulling out a disassembled telescope. His back was turned to Hotaru. A perfect target.

With a loud battle cry, Hotaru leapt from her hiding spot and onto the back of Satoshi. Even though she weighed a great deal less than he, she had the element of surprise on her side and was able to take him down for the count. He went crashing to the ground with a startled cry, limbs flailing all over the place. He tried to roll over and toss her off, but she grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close.

"Guess who," she cooed, slipping her hands over his eyes.

And then – BAM! BAM! Two hands, strong as vice grips, shot up and gripped Hotaru painfully by the wrists. They yanked hers away. "_STOPPIT_!! Get your hands OFF me, you STUPID IDIOT!!"

The voice that came bellowing out of Satoshi's body was so angry, so full of sudden rage, that it didn't even sound human. It sounded more like a growl, like the snarl of a hungry beast ready to pounce.

And pounce he did. Satoshi leaped to his feet in one thrusting upward motion and whirled around to face the petrified Hotaru. If she'd been merely frightened by his face before, it was his _face _–a mask of crazy thoughtless fury- that pushed her over the edge and into the "fear" zone. The handsome boy and the angelic face that she'd fallen in love with on sight were both gone. In their places stood a strange new man who looked more than ready to crack open a skull over something as trivial as a silly playful surprise gone wrong.

Then it was gone. The savage features of anger that'd lined his face so harshly a moment before vanished. Satoshi was Satoshi again. "H-Hotaru?" A whisper. "Firefly?" He rushed down to her side and swept her up in a hug. "Oh, man! I am so, so, sorry about that! I thought you were somebody else. I hope I didn't scare you."

_Did you scare me? Kind of. But did you _hurt_ me?_ Hotaru looked down at her hands. They still ached and the rosy imprints of Satoshi's fingers stood out brightly against her alabaster skin where he'd grabbed her so tightly. _Definitely._

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Really. I'm sorry." Satoshi leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I'm glad to see you. A little surprised, though."

"Yeah. That was the goal." Her wrists throbbed suddenly with new pain and she massaged them. "Looks like I did my job a little too well."

Such a feeling of shame passed over Satoshi's face just then that it would've moved even the coldest heart to forgiveness. He looked like he was about to apologize again, but Hotaru waved him off. She looked around desperately for something else to discuss.

_Come See the Mysterious TENTH PLANET Of Our Solar System!_

"Is it true?" Hotaru pointed to the poster that proclaimed history was in the making. "Did our galactic neighborhood expand without us knowing it? Why wasn't it on the news?'

"The discovery of a new planet's only news to guys in white lab coats and dorky astronomy geeks like me. Besides, it's not official yet. Further investigation still has to be done. At this point, it's still a theory." Satoshi went over to the poster and tapped the photo of space with one knuckle. "But I believe it's out there. In fact, I'm certain. Everyone else will come around once the x-ray results come in."

"X-ray results?"

"It's a new advanced deep-space tracking system that uses x-rays to pinpoint gravitational pulls. In that way, it's able to pinpoint a new planet's location exactly. It's the only way they can track it with its irregular orbit. Some scientists have even compared it to a black hole; sucking in the light energy of-" He stopped. "Am I rambling?"

"Actually, yes." Hotaru giggled. "But don't stop. It's interesting. Ramble away." It _was_ interesting, as a matter of fact. Not jump-up-and-down exciting, but still. The blue sky above was so vast and endless. Looking up at it, it was hard to believe that secrets still existed in this age of exploration and conquest. Even space was reachable now, and that scared Hotaru a little. Because if people could do that, go up in a rocket ship to the moon, what else were they capable of? What other great or terrible things could she look forward to in her lifetime? So the notion that something as big as an _entire planet_ could slip under the radar was uplifting. It proved that humans hadn't reached the apex of civilization and technological know-how. It proved that for every mystery solved, for every secret uncovered, five more lurked in the darkness beyond.

"So does it have a name, this mystery planet of yours?" Asked Hotaru as she helped Satoshi assemble the telescope.

He snapped a lens into alignment and peered through the viewfinder for some fine-tuning. "Nope. Like I said, there's a big debate as to whether or not it even exists or not. And if it does, it'll be a long time before it gets an official name, if ever. Until then, it'd just be a string of numbers."

In her mind's eye, Hotaru pictured a girl in the Sailor Soldier uniform, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Her name was Sailor 785-36-B, and on behalf of the as-yet undiscovered tenth planet of the solar system, she was going to punish YOU.

Yeah. That didn't sound right. But on the heels of that rather amusing image came a much more serious thought. Suppose this mystery planet (785-36-B or otherwise) did exist. Wouldn't it have its own Sailor Solider? Very likely. Practically every celestial body had its own defender – a person blessed with the Sailor Crystal who lived and grew alongside their planet (or asteroid or system) and who protected it in times of peril as part of their holy duty. The only known exception to this rule was, ironically enough, the planet Earth. But then again, Mamoru possessed its Crystal - the Golden Crystal - so he was sort of Sailor Earth by default.

On the other hand, if it did have its own Sailor, why hadn't she already made her appearance? Was she off waiting in the wings offstage for something to spark her into action? Were the threats of Pharaoh 90, Queen Nephrenia, and Sailor Galaxia not enough to coax her out of hiding? There were even more villains than that, but Hotaru had come into the game a little late and had therefore missed out on some of the earlier battles. What was Sailor Mystery Planet waiting for? Why hadn't she presented herself to the great Moon brigade and become their ally?

Maybe she didn't even know there _were_ other Sailors out there. That's what they had thought, Hotaru and the others, before Galaxia arrived. But then Sailor Star Fighter and Healer and Maker had shown up, proving that Hotaru and company weren't so special after all.

So maybe Sailor Whoever _did_ exist. Maybe not. Of course, it all greatly depended on whether or not this crazy planet even existed in the first place.

"It does need a name though, real or not," Hotaru said. "A name will draw people in."

Satoshi dug into the pocket of his school uniform and snickered. "I'll leave it up to you, then." He pulled out a few coins. "Wanna balloon? My treat."

Hand in hand, he and Hotaru left the astronomy club's tent behind them and set out on a search for the balloon boy. They were only able to pinpoint his location in the swarm of people by the cluster of colorful balloons floating high above the crowd. Hotaru squeezed her boyfriend's hand. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she teased.

Satoshi stuck out his tongue in a playful manner and continued forward. But the place was so chock full of people, it was impossible to move in a straight line. Far ahead, the balloons bounced further and further away. Hotaru looked around for a shortcut. Off to her right, a towering ladder, at least a hundred rungs tall, was propped up against the school. A boy stood atop the highest step, precariously hanging a stubby red glass lamp on to one of the strings that crisscrossed the sky above. The space in between his ladder and the school was free of traffic. It would make a great shortcut.

"Let's go," Hotaru said, heading off in that direction. She'd just stepped under it when a thought struck her. _It's unlucky to walk under a ladder. _But she pushed it away. Superstitions weren't based on reality. They were just someone's pathetic attempt to explain away-

"WATCH OUT!!"

Strong hands seized her by the waist and yanked her backwards. She lost her footing and toppled over backwards, feeling the air rush out of her lungs as she collided with the hard ground. She tried to get up, get back to her feet, but somebody took her roughly by the neck and shoved her face back into the dirt.

"Stay down! Don't move!" Satoshi's voice.

A dozen thoughts raced through Hotaru's mind. The image of how he had looked after she'd surprised him –crazed with rage- flashed through her brain. He was insane! He was trying to kill her! But why? Over something as stupid as a harmless joke? She hadn't meant any harm! It was a joke!! And – and – _she couldn't breathe_! He was suffocating her! Why wasn't any body doing anything about it?

Just then, a noise from high above reached her ears. It sounded like a yelp. The word "Crap!", loud and shrill, followed next. Then a moment of silence. Hotaru tried lifting her head up to see what was going on, but Satoshi rammed it back down again. Then-

_CRASH! _

A loud, tinkling explosion went off right next to her face. Tiny bits of sharp, cold _something _went hurling against her face She screamed into the soil – but only out of surprise; she wasn't hurt. Then the hands relinquished their grip on her and she was free to stand up and look around.

There, right next to where her head had been lying only a moment before, were the shattered remains of a red glass lamp. Bits of broken crystal lay strewn all over the place. She even had some in her hair. Hotaru gave her head a quick shake.

"Are you guys okay?"

Satoshi took Hotaru's chin in between his thumb and index fingers and gave her a quick look over. Once satisfied that no damage had been done, he turned and glared at the boy high up on the ladder. His eyes flashed. "You're lucky, understand? Real lucky! Watch what you're doing! Do you want to get somebody killed?!"

Killed? Surely it hadn't been _that_ serious… It was just a stupid lamp, after all. Why make such a fuss over it? Hotaru was about to take Satoshi gently by the arm and pull him away when she saw what the fuss was about. The lamp. The lamp of glass. If it'd connected with her, she felt sure she wouldn't be up and about like she was now. Why, a fall from that height coupled with the lamp's heavy construction … well, it wouldn't have been good for Hotaru had it struck her on the head. And if Satoshi hadn't stopped her when he did, she would've walked right under its path and could've been knocked unconscious. Or worse.

Oh, how could she have thought those things about him, that he was trying to kill her and all that other nonsense, when what he was actually trying to do was _save_ her? She felt so ashamed. Ashamed and ungrateful. But then that raised the question of how did he know the lamp was going to fall? A good thirty seconds must've passed between Satoshi's "Watch out" and the boy on the ladder's "Crap" - far too long to have seen the lamp falling. It was like …. like he had somehow foreseen it. Ahead of time.

"Thanks," Hotaru said, once they started on again. "You saved my life!"

One end of Satoshi's mouth curled up in an endearing smirk. "I wouldn't go _that_ far."

"I am. If that thing had hit me on the head in the right spot, I'd be dead right now. You saved my life. Really." She laughed. "And you must be psychic to have pulled me out of the way so early!"

She'd meant it as a joke. But the silence that followed that exclamation wasn't funny. Satoshi halted in his tracks and unhooked his hand from Hotaru's. He stepped forward a little and hung his head. "I guess that's a good a word as any."

Something akin to lightning surged through Hotaru's blood. She inched forward. "Satoshi?"

"I wasn't going to tell you. I really wanted to keep that part of myself hidden. I know that's not fair, but…" He turned to face her, the look on his face so open, so naked, that it hurt to look at it. "Yeah, I'm a freak. I can sense things. The past. The future. Deaths. That's what it seems to be mostly – tragedy. Don't ask me why." His cavernous brown eyes looked this way and that, at anything but the girl standing in front of him. "If you don't want to see me anymore, that's fine. I'll understand. I'd leave me … if I were you."

Any doubts that Hotaru might've still had regarding their relationship suddenly flew out the window. Her heart ached hearing his confession. So he had powers, abilities that the average person didn't. So what? That certainly didn't make him a _freak_. What he was was special. Gifted. And it pained Hotaru to hear him talk about his gift like it was a curse.

But she could understand his situation. Hadn't she been in the same predicament? Yes. The images of her past life came flooding back. She tried to hold them at bay, but the rushed past to spite her. Infinity College. Cruel classmates. Pain. A mad scientist of a father, experimenting on her –his own daughter, _his only child_ – like she was some worthless guinea pig. She, all alone in a world of darkness. Her, without friends and the mysterious ability to heal. What bleak, loveless times they'd been.

So yes. She could understand perfectly. Better than anyone else could ever hope to.

She took his face in both hands. "Look at me, okay?'

He did. Reluctantly.

"I don't care. I think you're stuck with me. Honestly, at this point, nothing you could say could make me change the way I feel about you."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Well, in that case…" Satoshi nosily cleared his throat. "I'm actually a woman. My real name is Bernice."

Hotaru threw back her head in laughter and punched her weird boyfriend in the gut. "Nice try. And not to be rude, but keep in mind that I _have _see you in a Speedo, so I have my doubts about that confession."

Satoshi grinned. "Touché. But seriously, don't tell anyone. I don't want to be the school freak boy, okay?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Actually, it's ironic. In addition to heading the Astrology Club, I'm also going to be reading fortunes for the Supernatural Club."

Hotaru crossed her arms. "You don't want anybody to know about your abilities, but you're going to be reading fortunes. _Okay…_"

"I was conned into it. The Supernatural Club doesn't have very many members, so I agreed to work the crowd for about half an hour. Besides, at least with me doing it, they'll get their money's worth."

"I'm sure they will," Hotaru agreed. And with that, he then took her by the shoulders, leaned in, lips parting, and-

"Geez! The lovebirds strike again! You guys just can't get enough of each other, huh?"

And there was Usagi, appearing out of nowhere like a bad dream. She came rushing up to them, smiling like a lunatic, happy as a clam. _Killjoy_, thought Hotaru as the squealing Usagi broke in between the couple and utterly destroyed the romantic atmosphere. _She sure knows how to make an entrance_. Still, no big deal. There would be other opportunities to make up for lost time. Oh yes.

"Whatcha doin'?" Usagi blabbered.

"Nothing," Hotaru replied.

And if that wasn't bad enough-

"Usagi? Hotaru?"

Ami Mizuno waved from the fringes of the crowd and joined in on the fun. She turned to the younger girl with an expression of utmost concern writ upon her face. "What are you doing here? Didn't you have school today?"

"Well," Hotaru said. "The ninth graders do, but we underclassmen have the day off." There. Short and simple – the way a lie should be. Saying it out loud (the lie, that is) was painful in a way she hadn't expected. She'd never really lied out right to anybody before – least of all to a friend, not to mention a fellow Sailor Solider. Still, her business was her business. Ami should mind her own.

The look on Ami's face remained doubtful and Usagi put a hand up to giggle behind. No doubt _she_ knew what was going on. After all, Usagi had certainly skipped school enough herself and could therefore detect an amateur's attempt at a cover-up story.

"Um…" Hotaru grabbed Satoshi and thrust him in front of Ami like a human shield. "Satosh, I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, this is-"

He held up a hand. "Don't go any further. I know this girl. Ami Mizuno, the girl genius. _Everyone_ knows who she is around here. Supposedly, she has an IQ of 300!" Satoshi smiled and leaned toward Ami, putting a hand over his mouth for comic effect. "Any truth to the rumors?"

The poor girl stiffened, uncomfortable with the male attention. "Well, I don't know about that." She blushed a deep crimson. "But I know you. Satoshi Yomata, correct? You're a pretty big fixture on the student government committee."

Good. She seemed duly impressed. Now to pull out the big gun. "He's my boyfriend," Hotaru announced proudly, taking one of his arms as if in an effort to prove it.

Now the green-eyed monster would rear its head. Hotaru smiled, waiting for Ami's brows to come together in jealously, for her body to stiffen with the fact that here Hotaru was, five grades behind her and with a boyfriend – a hot boyfriend at that. But things did not work out that way. Ami simply smiled politely but did not seem in the least bit jealous. For a moment, Hotaru was taken back by her lack of emotion, but then she realized whom she was talking to. Ami Mizuno's idea of a hot date was going home, locking the door to her room for a hot and heavy math study session.

"Are you going to be helping out with the student council both?" Asked the hopelessly clueless Ami to Satoshi.

"Nah," he said. "I've got my plate full already with the Astronomy Club and doing some fortune telling for the Supernatural Club."

Hotaru smiled and roped her arms around Ami and Satoshi. "Why don't you give Ami a reading for free right now? See if she's going to be the famous doctor she dreams of being."

"Actually," Ami stepped forward to get herself out from under Hotaru's arm. "I was wondering if I could speak to you and Usagi for a bit. Alone."

"Ah. Girl talk." Satoshi put his hands up in surrender. "I understand. Go on and gossip about me. I understand." He took a step back. "I'll be over here, see? Away. Far away. Not listening." Another step back. "Not listening to a thing. Not a thing. Nope. Not me."

With him out of the way, supposedly beyond earshot, Usagi latched herself on to Hotaru and screamed. "He is sooooo cool! I'm so jealous. Um … I mean I _would_ be if I didn't have Mamo-chan – the sweetest, handsomest, coolest, smartest-"

A snap of Ami's fingers silenced the squeals. "What I wanted to tell you was we have a situation. Minako contacted me a little while ago-"

"Yeah, she didn't walk to school with me this morning," Usagi said. "That was unusual. Where is she?"

"The Hikawa Shrine. With Rei. She went there following an incident in the park. Apparently, she was attacked."

Usagi gasped. "An enemy?"

"Yes. And you won't believe who – _Wiseman_."

That name seemed to resonate strongly with Usagi. She took a shaky step backward and put trembling hands to her mouth. Her sparkling blue eyes instantly clouded over with fear and dread. Even the normally composed Ami seemed a little shaken by the word she'd spoken. Hotaru just stood there, left out in the dark. As usual. A few moments of uneasy silence passed, and finally she could stand it no longer. "Care to fill me in? Who is 'Wiseman'?"

Ami cleared her throat and brushed the non-existent wrinkles out of her skirt, as if doing so would also brush away the fear. "It occurred before you joined up with us. Wiseman was an old enemy of ours. He led the Black Moon Clan in an attack on Crystal Tokyo in the 30th Century. Sailor Moon and Sailor Chibi Moon defeated him in the future, though, and the Black Moon Clan was finished."

Hotaru glanced at Usagi. She was still shaking, utterly griped with fear. "I don't understand. If you defeated him…" She trailed off. She didn't know what else to say.

"Maybe he's returned somehow. Maybe it's a copycat. Maybe Minako was mistaken. That's why Rei's called a Sailor meeting at the shrine later on this afternoon. She's going to try a fire-reading to determine the identity of the attacker. And that brings me to you, Hotaru." Ami took a deep breath. "Make sure Michiru comes to the meeting, will you? If the reading isn't clear, we'll need use of her mirror. And it also would be a good idea if Haruka and Setsuna could attend as well." She paused. "Do I need to write all of that down? It's a lot of information. It might be hard to remember."

_Yeah, _thought Hotaru._ For a kindergartner. _How insulting could she be, talking to her like she didn't have a brain in her head? True, she didn't have a 300 IQ like some people, but she still possessed enough sense to-

Ami dug in her pockets for a scrap piece of paper.

"I can remember it," Hotaru said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

"Alright." Ami turned to Usagi now. "Makoto's taking her chemistry exam now, so I'll tell her after that. And Usagi, please, don't get detention. We can't afford to hold the meeting up just for you, okay?"

"Okay, okay!" Usagi nodded furiously, causing her buns to bounce. "Now go and get your fortune read and leave me alone!"

Smiling, Ami turned to leave. "If you insist. But I won't put much stock into what your boyfriend says, Hotaru."

_Your mistake, then. _She watched her go, a frown creeping its way onto her face. Great. Now she, the great Sailor Saturn, was a mere carrier pigeon. At least that's how she felt. Nobody treated her as an equal. Maybe it was a youth thing. Maybe they didn't fully trust her because she was so young. But Chibiusa had been younger still and _she_ got respect! Of course she did. She was a Princess, the heir to the throne of the Silver Millennium. Respect sort of came with the job.

And now she had to go fetch Michiru and ask for her help. …Michiru and Haruka together in the same room with no escape. Hotaru shivered at the thought. Perhaps there was some way to get out of it. Maybe….

She turned around and saw Satoshi, sitting cross-legged with Ami in front of him. He had her hand in his, examining the palm. He was saying something (no doubt about how she was going to become a rich and famous doctor) and she laughed in response.

Hmm. Hotaru smiled. Inspiration struck.

…

"Remind me again what I'm doing here."

Hotaru smiled and ruffled Satoshi's hair. "Helping out a friend."

He frowned and smoothed it back into place. "I just wish I felt better about this. I mean, your friends won't think I'm some kind of nut, will they?"

"Oh, stop worrying so much. They'll love you. And I think it's great that you're willing to use your abilities to help others."

Poor Satoshi. The poor guy was so wound up about coming out of the so-called "powers closet". But Hotaru suspected that deep down inside, he knew he had to. It was the right thing to do. And maybe this could be the start of a new career for him. She could picture it – Satoshi sitting in the passenger seat of a police cruiser, using his psychic talents to aide in an investigation. The picture looked good.

They continued on down the streets of Tokyo, one boy and one girl, two people lost among the chaotic mix of late afternoon rush hour traffic. Hotaru had only been to the Hikawa Shrine once or twice before, but she found the way back easily enough and was able to lead Satoshi there. Everyone had already arrived by the time they got there. Usagi, Ami, Makoto, Minako, Rei, Mamoru - even the cats were in attendance. They all stood at the top of the entrance stairs, making conversation amongst themselves.

Ami noticed them first and waved them up. "Haruka and the others going to be a little late, I take it."

"Haruka and the others won't be coming," Hotaru replied. She then went into the fabricated story about how they had "a previous engagement" and "regretted that they were unable to attend". It sounded professional enough. Maybe Ami would buy it.

"Well…" She frowned. "Maybe I could call them myself. We really need Michiru's mirror and-"

Hotaru cut in. "I know, but I have the next best thing." She gestured to the apprehensive Satoshi. "Satosh can help us instead. He has a level of ESP, like Rei. I asked him to help."

Ami opened her mouth to speak, but Minako and Makoto jumped in.

"_Who_ is _this_?" Gushed Makoto.

"Have you been keeping a secret from us, Hotaru?" Asked Minako, winking suggestively at Satoshi.

At least _they_ had a reaction to him. Hotaru popped to attention and handled the introductions. Both Minako and Makoto seemed quite smitten. Rei, on the other hand, didn't seem too thrilled with the idea of a strange guy in her shrine, but hey, what could you do. Mamoru shook hands and all, but he appeared slightly uneasy. Intimidation, perhaps?

While all that was going on, Ami seized Hotaru by the arm and pulled her halfway across the room. "Have you lost your mind?! What were you thinking, bringing him here like this?"

Hotaru brushed Ami's hand off with a grunt. "Relax. He only knows half of the story. I told him a friend of mine got attacked while walking in the park. I asked if he could help out. He said yes." She turned around. Satoshi was even petting the cats, for crying out loud. "Look, Michiru's not here and we need an extra psychic boost, right? He can help us. Just trust me. That's all I'm asking."

Begrudgingly, Ami agreed – under the strict condition that no further information would be reveled to Satoshi. As far as he was concerned, Minako's assailant had been of the run-of-the-mill _human_ variety. Nothing more.

Once the introductions had been taken care of, Rei led the group _en masse_ to the back of the shrine, where the sacred fire lay in wait. The room was pretty large, completely undecorated and empty of anything else besides the fire pit in the center of the room. Looking at it, Hotaru had her doubts about the whole thing. How could anything of value or any divine information about the future be gained simply by staring into the flames? Maybe it just helped to focus Rei's natural ESP abilities – like the way Michiru used mirror scrying.

The door rolled shut upon Rei's entrance to the room and the place was instantly draped in darkness. The only light source being the fire in the center of the room.

It crackled and hissed like a beast. Its flames sent crazy shadows splaying against the paneled walls. Seeing it this way, Hotaru could almost picture it as a living entity – a soul trapped within the blaze.

"Do I … do I sit or stand or…" Satoshi trailed off, looking at Rei for answers.

"Whatever," she responded coolly.

She herself knelt down in front of the pyre and Satoshi followed suit, sitting cross-legged beside her. Hotaru grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. He just frowned and rolled his eyes as if to say _Look what you've gotten me into_.

They sat like that for a long time – Rei with her eyes focused ahead, the burning fire searing holes into her retinas, Satoshi with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Soft reds and oranges played across their faces, alternatively coloring them as angels or demons, depending on which way the light struck the contours of their features. Hotaru watched off in the sidelines, an enormous amount of pride swelling up within her. How wonderful it would be if Satoshi solved the mystery all by himself, with no help from Rei! She could already hear the praise: _Hotaru, your boyfriend's amazing! Hotaru, you're so lucky! Hotaru, I'm so jealous!_

The minutes dragged on. One after the other. Long and silent. Five, ten, fifteen… At the thirty-minute mark, the pride Hotaru had felt had vanished. Her feet were asleep, she was hot, and she was bored. She just wanted to go.

The others seemed to be feeling much the same way. Usagi had fallen asleep in Mamoru's arms, Makoto seemed to be in a daze, and Ami had a textbook out in front of her, studying up a storm. Minako appeared to be the only one still interested. "Are you getting anything, Rei?" She asked.

"No." Rei blinked for the first time and ran a hand through her long black hair. "What about you?" She asked Satoshi. "Anything?"

He bit his lip, his eyes still shut. "I'm getting something. …It's very faint, though."

"Yes. I think I'm getting something, too." Rei closed her eyes as well. "A name, right?"

"Yeah."

Hotaru turned around the look at the others. Mamoru had woken Usagi up, who in turn pinched Makoto to bring her back to the world of the living. The book in front of Ami was now closed.

"Can you focus in on the name?" Breathed Ami.

Rei shook her head. "I see it, but it's too vague for me. Satoshi?"

Satoshi clasped his hands together out before him, his fingers intertwined except for the two index fingers, which formed a steeple. "You're right, it is vague. It's almost like whoever it is is using some kind of psychic barrier to prevent us from finding out the truth. But … I think I can break through. Just give me a minute."

The entire room inched forward, anxious to hear more. Nobody dared breathe.

Satoshi's mouth trembled slightly. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. "It starts with an S. S-S-S…" His eyes popped open. "Shingo! Shingo. That's it!"

Gasps.

"Does that name sound familiar?"

Heads pivoted. Eyes widened. Everyone turned to gape at Usagi, who was already shaking her head ferociously. _She_ knew the name. She knew the name very well. How could you forget family?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Somehow, Usagi managed to keep a lid on her indignation until after Hotaru and her liar boyfriend had left. But once they were gone, the words flew.

"Well, _that_ was a complete waste of time," She said, the instant the door to the fire-room closed. "I guess we're back at square one."

Nervous looks were exchanged between the other girls. "What do you mean?" Asked Makoto.

"I mean we haven't yet discovered the identity of Minako's attacker. Maybe Ami can come up with a computer program that-"

Somebody coughed. Bodies shifted. Luna took a step forward. "Usagi, honey…"

"No way." Usagi shook her head vehemently. "Don't tell me you actually believed that guy! Shingo, my brother Shingo – the Wiseman? _Puh_-lease!" She laughed. She couldn't help it. The idea was just so stupid, so deranged, so totally random! How _could_ she take it seriously? Bratty annoying little Shingo Tsukino – the vile Wiseman, fiend of the thirtieth century? Hilarious! She'd heard some good jokes in her time, but this one took the cake. It was going to keep her rolling in the aisles with laughter for years to come. Sure, he was a wise _guy _more often than not, but Wiseman? No way.

Ami picked up Luna from the floor and stroked her black fur with long, smooth hand strides. "But we can't ignore something just because we don't like it. We have an obligation to look into any leads, no matter how far fetched they might seem."

Anger began to seep into the edges of Usagi's mind, forcing away any humor that might still remain. Could it be? Were they actually considering… Did they actually think… Usagi's blood boiled. Her heart doubled its beats. Righteous indignation flowed through every vein, energized every cell. She saw what they were thinking. They –each of them- were thinking the same thing: that Shingo was an enemy.

Well. If that were the case, she'd just have to convince them otherwise. Usagi stomped to the front of the room, in front of the sacred fire, so that she might look upon each of her friend's faces. She regarded each one sternly. "Look," she said, her voice hard and uncompromising. "I don't even know why we're even having this conversation. Some guy we don't even know walks off the street and tells us that my brother is an enemy? Does anybody besides me see how insane that is?! We know _nothing_ about this Satoshi guy! We just relax and sit back and trust him because he's Hotaru's boyfriend. That's crazy!" A new idea occurred to her then – a thought that would surely sway the others. "Maybe _he's_ the Wiseman! Satoshi! Come on, think about it for a sec. This kid has psychic powers, right? We know that whoever posts these predictions on the internet must have psychic powers to know about future events. The guy who attacked Minako in the park spoke of another prediction. Therefore, isn't it possible that _Satoshi_ is the Wiseman? Sure! Connect the dots! He just pops up out of nowhere and we all fall over ourselves and give him our complete trust? Come on! We're smarter than that! He's not to be trusted! He-"

But it was no use. Usagi could see that her rant had failed to sway any hearts. Everyone either had their heads lowered, afraid to look at her, or was looking up over her head, examining the fascinating ceiling. No one dared look her in the eyes. No one wanted to talk her out of her disillusion. Even Mamoru had That Look about him. His eyes fluttered up once and for the briefest instant, they peeked at each other. Usagi saw him and he saw Usagi. _Please don't do this_, her eyes wordlessly begged his. _Please believe me. Support me. I need you with me on this._

Then he looked down once more and Usagi nodded inwardly. _Et tu, Brute?_

Rei stepped forward. Her red robes rustled like paper being shuffled. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But I saw it too. It wasn't just Satoshi. The name 'Shingo'. I saw it too."

Before Usagi could counter back, the ever-helpful Ami took it upon herself to further complicate the situation. "I do agree that it _is_ a big coincidence that Satoshi's confession of psychic abilities and these internet predictions seem to coincide. But that doesn't necessarily prove that Satoshi is the Wiseman. If anything, I'd say that the Wiseman is controlling him – using him as an unwilling puppet for his powers. We already know that this enemy can utilize mind-control. Remember the gunman at the Tokyo Tower? He was totally under someone else's influence. Satoshi could be a pawn of the Wiseman – just like the gunman." She shrugged. "Providing that he's even a part of this at all."

Anger then gave way to mute acceptance. Usagi could say no more. Could do no more. They didn't understand. She could talk and scream and give examples till she turned blue in the face, and they still wouldn't change their minds. …But didn't they understand what she was trying to do? She _had_ to stick up for Shingo! Annoying and gross though he was, he was her brother! Couldn't they grasp the fact that the two of them shared a special bond, a link that existed only between siblings?

No. Of course they couldn't. None of them could. Not Rei, living alone with her grandfather, not Ami – with her beautiful doctor mother and nonexistent father. And certainly not Makoto. Both her parents were dead – killed in a plane crash. She had no family at all. Minako came close with a mother _and_ father, but her dad was always away on business, so it was usually just her and mom. Even Mamoru couldn't understand. His parents were also dead. Car accident. Usagi didn't know the finer details.

Out of them all, Usagi was the only one with a sibling. Shingo. It'd always been the four of them – Kenji-Papa, Ikuko-Mama, Shingo and herself. A family. And a family had to stick together. They had to help each other out. And that's what Usagi planned to do. She would stand next to her brother and refuse to give in to this… this… this disgusting lie! She would not believe it. She would stand alone - without friends, without Mamoru, even – if it meant protecting her kid brother's honor. 'Twas a sister's duty.

Luna mewed sadly from in between Ami's arms. "Usagi. I know it's hard, but-"

Usagi held up a hand. "Can we just move on? I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Nobody said anything as a new topic of conversation began to load. "Well," Minako started, after an appropriate amount of time had passed. "I guess you're all anxious to hear this new prediction."

Nobody said anything one way or the other.

"It's pretty far-fetched, I'm not even sure I should tell you guys… It's crazy, really. Stupid. Probably a joke, you know, but-"

"Just tell us already!" Makoto cried, exasperated.

Minako cleared her throat. "Um… okay. I don't know how to say this except flat out." She cleared her throat again. Louder this time. "He said that an asteroid or something's gonna hit us four years from now and lots of people are gonna die I can't remember the exact death toll but I think it was in the billions."

Stunned silence. A few scoffs of astonishment fluttered about the room. Ami made a startled little _oof_ sound. Makoto swore softly under her breath. Rei continued to stand her ground, expressionless as a statue. All thoughts of Shingo and proving his innocence flew out of Usagi's mind temporarily, replaced by this new terrible threat. For a moment, she wasn't sure she'd heard Minako correctly – the news had come so quick and without warning- but then she saw the looks of fear and shock writ upon the faces of those around her and she knew.

She felt a warm hand slip into hers.

Mamoru.

Now that the initial shock had worn off, challenging voices were raised. Makoto swore loudly and advanced forward toward Minako, yelling that the whole thing was obviously a trick and that if it were true, it would be all over the news by now and it just couldn't _couldn't_ be true! Artemis, a forgotten white ball of fur over in the corner, kept on repeating the same word over and over. "Billions. Billions. Billions." As if he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that such a large number even existed.

"I know it's crazy," Minako said. "I don't even believe it myself. But-"

"It's more than crazy! It's an outright lie!" Exclaimed Makoto. She turned suddenly toward Usagi, her brown ponytail slapping her in the face. "It has to be a lie, right? I mean, it would've been all over the news otherwise, right? An asteroid?!"

Suddenly all faces were on Usagi. They were looking toward their leader for answers. She gulped loudly. She didn't know what to say.

Mamoru gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I doubt any of us know anything more than anyone else," he told the crowd. "The important thing now is to keep a level head. Overreacting won't help matters."

"A lie. A lie," Makoto said to nobody in particular.

"Even so, it would be best if we took it as fact. After all, weren't the other predictions correct? I say we work on a contingency plan should the worst occur," Ami declared.

Makoto exhaled loudly and leaned against a wall. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm hitting the arcade after this for some mindless video game stress relief."

"Oh." Minako stepped into the spotlight again. "There's something I forgot to tell you. You can't. Go to the arcade, that is. Motoki's moving. Unazuki, too. The arcade's shutting down."

This time there was no moment of silence. Everyone leapt to attention, shouting things like "What?!" and "When?!" and "Why?!" Even the normally stoic Rei joined in, question Minako, asking if she was sure her information was correct. The asteroid and the cataclysmic death toll that'd come with it were all but forgotten. And why not? On some level, they all believed that it would be okay – that it would all turn out right in the end. Weren't they the Sailor Soldiers? And didn't they have Sailor Moon on their team - the strongest and most beautiful Soldier of them all? An asteroid was mere child's play compared to the other horrors they had faced in the past. A problem easily remedied with the power of the Silver Crystal.

Usagi felt sick.

"Calm down! Calm down!" Minako held up two hands to hold her screaming friends at bay. "I don't know much more other than the fact that he's moving."

"Where?" Somebody asked frantically.

"Yokohama."

Yokohama? Usagi preformed a quick run-through of her internal data banks. Yokohama. It didn't ring a bell. Then again, geography had never been her strong suit. But what really mattered was that it wasn't Tokyo. Motoki was moving. Nearby, far away – it didn't matter. He wouldn't be around anymore. That was the point.

Makoto rolled up her selves like she was ready to lay the smack-down on somebody. The other girls standing around her instantly backed away. "I'm going over there. Maybe I can talk some sense into him and convince him to stay."

"I'll go too." Usagi said. She had to. She owed him that much – to say a final goodbye, to see him off. At one time, she'd viewed Motoki as her " one true love" and though the passing of time and the wisdom of years had done much to discredit that notion, he was still a very important person to her. He was her friend.

The others elected to stay at the shrine and wallow in their despair while Makoto and Usagi left (with Mamoru hot on their heels) to seek out Motoki and somehow convince him to stay. Deep down inside, she knew it was no use. Begging and pleading couldn't do anything. But some little girl part of her brain kept insisting that it would work out some how. That he would see reason. That he would stay.

Motoki and Unazuki, along with their parents, lived in the floors above the Crown arcade and fruit parlor. Usagi and the others made their way there with hardly an upward glance. They knew the way well enough. They'd spent countless hours in either location – warping their young minds with video games while Motoki lovingly looked on, stuffing their faces with ice cream and burgers, chatting the day away with Unazuki (when she really should've been working)… It was all so… sad.

Up ahead, the arcade and restaurant materialized into existence and for a moment, Usagi wasn't sure she was in the right place. It just looked so _different_. The neon lights over the entrances were dark. Both doors had been bolted shut with heavy padlocks. Over each dingy window hung signs that read "_SPACE AVIABLE FOR LEASE_", along with a number to call if you were interested in desecrating the place. Usagi took it all in with teary eyes. Had she really eaten at the fruit parlor only a few days ago? Now it looked like a forgotten relic. It and the arcade.

Anger suddenly swelled up within her, crimson and terrible. Anger that these places were either going to be taken over by other people or bulldozed. Anger that Motoki and Unazuki were having to move because the economy was bad. She even felt angry at the pedestrians and the motorists bustling along on their way home. They didn't know what was going on. They didn't know that Usagi was going to loose two close friends. They probably didn't care. To them, the Crown arcade and fruit parlor were just two eyesores that didn't hold any special meaning. They had no idea of the memories contained within its crumbling walls.

A plump woman walking a Chihuahua strolled past Usagi, her nose stuck high in the air. Usagi watched the woman go, dressed in her fancy designer duds, wearing every bit of jewelry she owned, her hair dipped and dyed and swept into a stylish updo. She wanted to fling herself at this woman – wanted to scream at her, to make her understand that everyone wasn't as lucky as she, that some people couldn't afford couture clothes and expensive wax jobs! And how _dare_ she walk down the street like that, all uppity and superior, when there were homeless people lying in every on every street!

Maybe it was best for all parties involved that she _couldn't_ turn into Sailor Moon after all.

"Let's go."

Usagi's anger melted away and was replaced by bleak misery as she followed Makoto through a semi-hidden doorway tucked away in an alley beside the arcade. She followed her up the small flight of stairs that lay on the other side, thinking that maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have come. Perhaps it was better to leave with happy memories rather than a painful goodbye.

But Mamoru was already climbing the stairs behind her and it was too late to turn back.

They reached a short hallway and Makoto took the lead. She raced down the corridor, planted herself in front of one of the many doors and pounded on the door. Usagi fell into line behind her. Her lungs felt like lead balloons. It was hard to breathe. She felt all sweaty. She needed to throw up.

"Coming!" Exclaimed a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Motoki's voice.

Makoto looked at Usagi.

Footsteps now. Footsteps stopping. A pause. The sound of a chain being unhooked, of a lock being unfastened. And then-

_No. I've got to get out of here! I don't want to do this anymore! I should've stayed at the shrine with Rei and the others! _Usagi panicked and stepped backward into Mamoru. _Move. Move!! _Her frenzied brain screamed. _I don't want to see him like this! I don't want to!! _

"Hey, you guys! Long time no see!" A voice. Soft and gentle.

Usagi relaxed somewhat at the sound of the soothing voice and was able to look at its source. Motoki stood in the doorway, wearing a faded blue t-shirt with the number 8 stitched over the left breast and a pair ratty-looking khaki shorts. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never seen him out of his work uniform before. Now here like this, so casual and well … _unemployed_, he looked like a totally different person.

"Come in, come in!" He cried, moving aside. "Man, you brought the whole crew, didn't you?"

"Motoki," Mamoru said.

"Mamoru," Motoki responded back.

With more than a little hesitation, Usagi stepped inside the apartment. Save for its brightly painted walls and a few randomly placed pieces of furniture, the place was devoid of any decoration. Brown boxes of varying sizes dotted the place, creating a virtual minefield. Moving boxes. Some had been labeled things like "SPORTS" or "CHINA" and the words "Fragile – this end up" were printed on many of them.

It was all very depressing.

"Sorry 'bout the mess." Motoki scattered this way and that, trying to clear a path toward the sofa in the corner of the room. "Sit down. Make yourselves at home."

Usagi nodded and awkward thanks and sat down on the lumpy contraption. Mamoru took a seat next to her and the sudden displacement of energies was enough to almost hurl her up through the ceiling. Makoto, however, did not sit. She stood square in the center of the small living room like a trained attack dog awaiting the order to strike. Her though green eyes followed Motoki as he moved about the room. Quietly, silently.

"Hey, you guys want some coffee? I think the machine's in one of these boxes..." He rubbed his hands together and bent down to search for the elusive Mr. Coffee, but was stopped by Makoto.

She took his arm in a gentle grip and pulled him back to full height. "We didn't come for coffee."

"I know." Motoki ran a hand through his slightly messy dirty-blonde hair. "But let's keep the crying to a minimum, okay? I don't want to turn this into a sad thing."

Makoto's lips quivered. "So it's true?"

"Yeah. 'Fraid so."

"To…"

"Yokohama."

"But I don't understand why! Don't your parents own the arcade and everything?"

"They do."

Makoto threw her hands up in the air. "Then how can you close down or leave or whatever it is you're doing if you own the place?"

That elicited a laugh from Motoki. He laughed and petted the seething Makoto on the head. It was a loving brotherly gesture that brought tears to Usagi's eyes. _He's starting his goodbyes. We can't talk him out of it._

"You're a nice girl, Mako-chan, but you still have a lot to learn about the world."

"But-" Usagi leapt from the sofa. Motoki looked at her with sadness in his eyes. He was begging her not to say anything. But she couldn't. She couldn't keep her feelings repressed – not when this could be the last time she'd see him. The only thing was, now that she had his full attention, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Funny. She'd spent the whole trip over here thinking of excuses and reasons why she should stay. She'd come up with at least fifty of them, but now, here in his apartment, they'd all left her. Why? Why?! And why wasn't Mamoru saying anything? She gave him a quick look over her shoulder and saw him fully reclined on the sofa. He looked bored.

That old anger flared up again. Why wasn't he helping her out? Couldn't he see how upset she was? Or maybe he knew something she didn't. Maybe he knew it was useless to prattle on when things were already set.

Inspiration struck.

"What about your girlfriend?" Usagi asked suddenly. "Don't you have a girlfriend? Don't you want to stay with her?"

Something swam over Motoki's face then. Sadness tinged with regret. "_Had_ a girlfriend. Reika and I … we broke up." He shrugged, as if to prove what a man he was, that such things didn't bother him. "Best thing, really. Long distance relationships never work. We figured we'd save each other a lot of grief this way. It's easier."

Really? Was that true? Usagi felt chilled. Was love such a fragile thing? Could two people really just do that – cut their feelings off so neatly and suddenly just because one of them had to leave? It didn't make sense. After all, two years ago, Mamoru had been set and ready to fly off to America to study at Harvard, but they'd made a promise to make it work and to stay in touch.

But long distance relationships never work. They never did get a chance to test that theory, he and Usagi. Heart thudding, Usagi slid a finger along the side of her engagement/friendship/everyday gift ring. Would things have turned out differently had Mamoru never been attacked on his way to America? What if he'd made it to Harvard? Would they still together now, two years later? Can love really exist when two people are so far apart from each other? Was it really that strong?

"Hey, Mom wants to know where some extra towels are, do you know where-" Unazuki appeared suddenly from behind a tower of boxes, looking more beautiful than ever with her cherry red hair pulled up in a carefree ponytail and dressed in overalls that were about five sizes too big. She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Usagi and the others. "Hi! Oh my gosh! What are you guys doing here?!" Smiling a crazy smile, she rushed forward and greeted everyone with a hug.

As she embraced Usagi, she caught a whiff of bananas. Unazuki's signature scent. Motoki had one, too. He smelled perpetually of smoke and ozone – probably from being around malfunctioning video games and electronics all day.

"What're you doing here?" She asked again once everyone had received a hello hug.

"Trying to talk some sense into you," Makoto replied. She turned back to Motoki and the look in her eyes was pitiful. "Is there anything I can say or do to convince you not to go?"

" 'Fraid not."

Unazuki slid in between the two of them and rolled her eyes theatrically. With the appropriate amount of levity in her voice, she said, "Cut that out! It's not like we'll never see each other again! We'll write and we'll even come home once in a while, too!"

Ah. This was a familiar scene, was it not? Usagi looked back at Mamoru. The two of them had done this same exchange at the airport two years ago – promising promises and saying goodbyes. It was like that day was repeating itself. Except this time, they would never see each other again. Even though Unazuki had said they would. _That_, boys and girls, was called an empty promise.

Now that they had failed in their objective, there was nothing left to do but commence with the emotional farewell. Makoto did the deed first, hugging Motoki first and then Unazuki, all the while making strange little hiccupping noises. Mamoru came next. He favored Unazuki with a side-to-side hug first and then moved on to Motoki. The two of them swapped the traditional manly goodbye, complete with the initial firm handshake, then moving into the bear hug. The backslapping followed soon thereafter. Then it was Usagi's turn. She stood transfixed for a moment, not moving. Motoki and Unazuki smiled sadly and opened their mouths to speak at the same time.

That's what did it. That's what spurred Usagi into action. Like a jaguar, she pounded forward and engulfed the two of them as one. Banana mixed with smoke and ozone. Tears fell. Words of encouragement and bravery were passed between them, but Usagi would later find that she couldn't remember any of them.

And then it was over. Just like that.

It seemed as if she had but blinked and was instantaneously transported back outside onto the street. The darkened facades of the arcade and fruit parlor were still there. Nothing had changed. Usagi moved forward tentatively and ran her fingers over the smooth window glass. Such memories. She had come to the arcade so many times after a failed test to play away the stress and disappointment. The fruit parlor had been the spot for many a gab session between her and the girls. Boys, mean teachers at school, bad haircuts – nothing had been off limits.

She even remembered the day, four years ago, when she'd stopped into the arcade to play the new Sailor V game – and how later that night, she transformed into Sailor Moon for the first time. Moon Prism Power, Make-Up.

Four years. Had it been such a short time ago? It felt like an eternity upon an eternity. Usagi tried to summon up memories of the time before then, from before she was Sailor Moon, but couldn't. Her friends and her role as a Sailor Solider played such an important role in her life now, it was difficult to remember a time when they hadn't been there.

"Do you think it would've made a difference if I had told him I loved him?"

Usagi turned to look at Makoto. The other girl was standing with her back to the arcade. A soft breeze came by and swept her curly hair around. "Do you think that would have convinced him to stay?"

"I don't know," Usagi replied. "I … don't think so."

"You're right." Makoto moaned and popped a few knuckles. "I'm going home – might watch some TV, might take a bath and pop open a vein, it's hard to say." She waved and started down the street. "See ya later."

How depressing. How…. Well, there wasn't even a word strong enough to express it all, was there? And it wasn't just Motoki and Unazuki leaving. Oh, no! It was Shingo. It was the asteroid. All of those things. A full deck of tragedies. Bad news atop bad news. Overwhelming. Whenever she tried to concentrate on one, the other two would force their way in and overcrowd everything. What she had to do was pick _one_ and think about it, solve it, and move on. One at a time.

Pick a catastrophe, any catastrophe. Usagi did some mental shuffling and a card was produced. It read "The Asteroid".

Okay. Great. Usagi sighed and looked up into the sky above. So blue. So vast. Never before had it looked so … threatening. Was it already up there, beyond the blue, hurtling through the infinitude of space, on a crash-course with Earth? She supposed it was. And the scary thing was that nobody knew. Usagi stared at the bustling traffic and the busy pedestrians. They had no clue that their days were numbered. They just continued on their way - buying fancy clothes, working their butts off from 9 to 5 – when it wasn't worth a hill of beans. They were all going to die when it hit. Everyone. Rich and poor. The CEO's and the homeless man passed out on the street corner. No one would be spared.

Still, Usagi envied them a little. They could go on with their pointless lives and daily routines, but she could not. She knew what was coming. But was it better to be like them, oblivious and unafraid, or were you better off knowing so that you could prepare and tie up any loose ends before the big bang? Usagi's personal opinion was that you were screwed either way.

"Four years," she whispered up into the azure. "To think, I'll only make it to 22. Sad, huh?'

Mamoru moved beside her and ran a finger along her neck. "Don't talk like that. We'll find a way to fight this. We've gone through tougher obstacles before. So don't think for one second that-" He stopped abruptly.

"What?"

"Four years from now… you'll be 22. You're right." Mamoru's eyes became distant. His mouth opened a little, as if he were pondering some great mystery.

"Yeah," Usagi said. "So?"

"Well, that's the age when you ascend to the throne. That's when you become _Queen_."

Usagi's throat constricted suddenly. She tried to swallow, but couldn't. She coughed spasmodically instead. "Is it?" She tried to keep her voice clam and level but did a poor job of it.

"Yeah! That's what King Endymion told us that time we all went to the future! He said you became Queen at 22. So that must mean that this asteroid is somehow figured in as to how you _become_ Queen!" His eyes lit up as he contemplated a series of possible futures. "My guess is that you prevent the collision and the people of Earth are so grateful that they elect you to rule over everyone and everything."

Wow. Great. Fantastic. _More_ pressure. Usagi fiddled with the useless transformation brooch pinned onto her school uniform and had to use an extreme amount of self-control to prevent a crying fit. It was scary, knowing you had to act a certain way or do a certain thing or else the entire course of history could be thrown off track.

"What would you say if I told you I couldn't transform anymore?"

Mamoru turned around in mid-stride. The sparkled dissolved from his eyes. "I don't know," he replied cautiously.

"Because I can't. The Silver Crystal's lost its shine."

"Since when?" The question was put forward gently and in a conversational tone.

"Since the Galaxia thing. Two years ago."

Shock raced across Mamoru's face at that, betraying the cool demeanor he'd been trying to project. "All that time? Why haven't you told anyone? How could you keep a thing like that to yourself?"

Usagi went on the defensive. "I thought maybe it would heal itself! Besides, there hasn't been a great demand for Sailor Moon lately. I thought … I thought the peace would last." A childish hope, to be sure. There would never be a perfect peace. Never. The bad times existed to magnify the joys in life. She knew that, but sometimes it was so hard to remember…

"Do the others know?"

"No. Just you and Luna. And I'd like to keep it that way. At least for a little while longer."

Mamoru sighed. "Do you think that's smart when a new enemy's right around the corner?"

A chilly wind swept through the street just then and Usagi braced herself against the sudden chill. Her two long pigtails flapped crazily in breeze. She turned her back to Mamoru and closed her eyes. "Logically, I know it's foolish to keep it a secret. But I feel like I have to be strong. I think the time's come. The time for growing up. It's time to leave crybaby Usagi behind. I need to solve this problem on my own so that I can mature a little bit more."

"Usako." Mamoru glided up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. "Just don't change too much."

She nodded and they locked lips. But it was halfhearted. Too many issues hung in the air overhead to make it a happy moment.

They continued walking and before long, there they were – staring up at the Tsukino house. Usagi's blood ran frigid at the sight of it. Her eyes were inadvertently drawn up to the second floor, to the second window from the left – Shingo's room. Was he up there, looking down upon them even now, plotting ways to rid himself of his sister so that he may rule the universe? Such a ridiculous idea. And yet, hadn't Usagi herself noticed how much he'd changed? Yes. That time, the day of the earthquake when she barged into his room, she'd been taken for a loop at the state of the place – at how quickly the superhero posters had been replaced by bikini models. He had changed. That fact was undeniable. And the sad thing was that Usagi had been so consumed by her Sailor Moon persona, she hadn't even noticed.

"You can stay at my place if you want."

"No thanks." Usagi gave Mamoru a quick peck on the cheek. "Can't turn back now."

He smiled in a concerned way and left, leaving Usagi there all alone. She took a step forward and then another. All she had to do right now was make it to the front door.

Her eyes fluttered upward.

_No! What are you, crazy?! Don't look up! He could be watching you!! Just act natural! Don't let him know that you're on to him!_

But curiosity overcame eventually got the better of her and she managed one more sneak peak up at Shingo's window before she entered inside.

Was there somebody there? Did the curtain just move?

_Snap out of it_, she scolded herself. _How can you convince others that he's innocent when you're acting like this?_

Good question. But one without an answer. Usagi shook her head and pulled open the door to her house. She started in with a "Hello", but stopped. She didn't want to alert Shingo to her presence.

But somebody was already there. Two muffled voices could be heard drifting out from the kitchen area. Their conversation was hurried and high-pitched. Usagi sat her school satchel down in the foyer (forgetting those times when Ikuko-Mama had scolded her about doing just that) and slipped off her shoes as quietly as possible. The voices rose in timbre, leaving behind their whispering quality, and Usagi could make out her mother's voice plain as day.

"How can they do that?!" She was yelling. "Is that even legal?!"

"Honey…"

Now _that_ sounded like Kenji-Papa. But it was too early for him to be home from work. It was still light out.

A scuffle of feet and then: "No! I want to know how this could happen!"

"Times are bad."

Bitter laughter. "Tell me something I don't know!"

Ikuko-Mama's soft footfalls padded across the kitchen to the hallway beyond, moving closer and closer. Usagi was suddenly uncomfortable. Her mother had sounded so … so … so _unlike_ herself. She'd never talked that way before – so sharp and abrasive. Well, except when she was yelling at Usagi for her poor grades.

Then they both rounded the corner ahead, Ikuko-Mama and Kenji-Papa. They seemed surprised to see Usagi standing there and she felt ashamed for some reason, like she'd been eavesdropping on a private conversation. The three of them stood there for several seconds, like vipers staring each other down.

"Hi," Usagi said stupidly. "What's going on?"

Mama and Papa swapped looks and Usagi realized something was the matter and that there would be no news but bad news.

"Sweetie," Ikuko-Mama began. "You might want to sight down."

Uh oh. _That's_ never a good sign. "I'd like to stand, if that's okay," Usagi murmured. Better to just get whatever it was out of the way with no preambles.

Ikuko-Mama cast a glance back at her husband. "Well, your father…" She took a shaky breath. "He's been fired."

Usagi laughed – an unacceptable act and totally out of place given the predicament. But that's what she did regardless. Some things are so sudden and come as such a surprise that you simply have to laugh. Laugh or go stark-raving mad. And it wasn't that she didn't believe her mother. She did. After a day like the one she'd been having, she would've believed anything.

"I don't think 'fired' is the right word exactly," Kenji-Papa corrected. He pushed his large wire-rimmed glasses farther up on his nose with one finger. "It's nobody's fault. The magazine just wasn't doing that good. _Nothing's_ doing good nowadays."

"But you're the editor! Doesn't that mean you're the boss or something? How can they fire the boss?!" Now that the laughter had worn off, hysteria set in. Usagi could feel herself shaking. She looked from her mother to her father, wanting answers that they could not give.

"Honey." Kenji-Papa took his daughter in his arms and stroked her hair. "It's not a big deal. It's going to be okay. We'll get through this somehow."

_Really?_ Her brain asked. _You think so? Because I don't. No, not at all. _Images of those homeless people, the ones she'd passed by on her way to school so many times, flashed in front of her eyes. They probably had jobs at one time, too. Then they got fired or laid-off or whatever and now there they were, crashed out on the street, calling a leaky cardboard box home.

_That_ could be their future. That could be them a few years down the road. Yeah, because Kenji-Papa was the sole breadwinner of the Tsukino family. Ikuko-Mama didn't work. She was a housewife. Shingo wasn't old enough to get a job yet. Usagi was, but she didn't really have any skills. She could barely make it through a school day! If she were able to find a job somewhere, how could she juggle that, plus the load of a college schedule? Oh, and that was providing she even passed _high school_!

Usagi pulled away from her father and wiped away a tear. "I'm okay now," she said. But she wasn't. She just couldn't stay there a moment longer with her parents. She wanted to get out. Go somewhere. Far way.

Ikuko-Mama hugged her and tucked a wayward hair into place. "Hey, you better get your shoes on! We're going out for some karaoke!"

"Karaoke?"

"Sure!" Kenji-Papa was already sliding on his penny loafers. "It'll be fun. We can sing our blues away!"

Was he serious? How could anybody even think about singing and dancing after being told that the job they'd held for over 15 years was no longer theirs? Maybe he was putting on a brave face for his family, but it still didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense.

"I think I'll pass," Usagi said as she moved up the stairs, making her way up to her room.

"Come on, sweetie," Ikuko-Mama said. "We hardly ever do things as a family anymore. It'll be fun. I promise. And if you're worried about embarrassing yourself, Shingo's spending the night with some friends, so it'll be just the three of us."

So Shingo was spending the night somewhere else? Good. At least she didn't have to worry about _that_ for a little while longer. "I just want to crash. I'll see you guys in the morning, though."

"Sure you don't want to come?" Papa asked.

"Yeah. Sorry." It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time with her family; it just wasn't the right time. She felt totally exhausted from the day's strenuous events. She'd hang out with them later. Yes, when everything settled down and returned to normal. Then they could have their family reunion.

"That's okay. Be a party-pooper." He smiled and kissed Usagi on the nose. Ikuko-Mama sneaked up behind her and tickled her, and she laughed in spite of herself. Then they waved and were out the door.

Usagi turned and continued up the steps. She tried not to think about anything. Nothing existed right now. For the moment, all was right and fair with the world. There was no asteroid, Shingo was nothing more than a bratty little brother - on the verge of puberty, but otherwise okay – Motoki and Unazuki were going to be at the arcade tomorrow because that's where they were everyday, and Kenji-Papa was still a successful magazine editor.

Right and fair. Fair and right.

The door to her room loomed up ahead and she entered inside, moving around like a ghost. She stripped her school uniform off and hung it on the door handle to her closet. She then changed into a clean pair of pajamas – the pink ones that sported bunnies jumping over the moon. She'd outgrown them long ago, but wearing them made her feel a little bit better. They smelled of little girl ideas and hopes and dreams.

She was doing good right up until the time when she passed by her window and caught a glimpse of the darkening sky outside. The asteroid was out there, waiting for its chance to kill a billion people. What had the death toll been again? Five billion? Seven billion? Did Minako even say? It didn't make much difference anyhow. Everyone was going to die. Wham, bam, that'd be it. So it didn't really matter if Motoki and Unazuki were moving after all or that the Tsukino family was now one step away from the gutter. Because everything was going to go up in flames anyway! Of course, it was actually Shingo's fault because he was the Wiseman, _had_ been the Wiseman all along and-

Her eyes locked suddenly with the Three Lights poster tacked above her bed. Seiya, Yaten, Taiki. The Sailor Starlights. The three of them looked down from their perch, smiling their coy, unreachable teen-idol smiles.

Fighter. Healer. Maker.

"Help me," Usagi sobbed. She sunk down on her bed, her mind a confused jumble of a thousand different heartaches. She couldn't take it anymore. Too many things were happening. Too much. Too fast. She couldn't deal with it. Nobody could.

_I'll never get to sleep_, she thought as her head hit the pillow. _I'll never get-_

...

But she _did_ get to sleep. Must have, because when she opened her eyes an undeterminable time later, her room was completely dark. She sat there in her bed in a half-sitting position, wondering what had awakened her. Her neck felt sore and she rubbed it, looking about the room.

Her door was open.

Had she left it open? She couldn't remember. Where was Luna? Her little bed over in the corner was vacant.

Usagi rolled over on her left side and tried to slip into sleep again. But failed. The door – it bothered her. She couldn't relax with it yawing before her like that, inviting anyone and anything into her room. She'd have to close it.

Yawing, she forced herself to sit higher up in bed. And stopped. There was somebody in her room - a short, dark figure standing over by the window. Her first thought, as crazy as it might've been, was that it was Mamoru – that he'd snuck it to check on her something during the night. But no. That wasn't right. Whoever it was lacked the height to be him.

Too short to be Mamoru, but tall enough to be Shingo. Yes. Now, as Usagi's eyes adjusted to the shadows, she recognized the stationary figure as her brother. But what was he doing here? What was he doing here, alone in her room in the middle of the night, when he was supposed to be sleeping over at a friend's house?

The first instinct that Usagi experienced was to flee – to run like mad. But she resisted. Was there a law against sneaking into other people's rooms? It wasn't a polite thing to do, but by no means was it a crime. Besides, he was probably just going to play another prank on her; like that time he'd drawn a mustache on her face with permanent magic marker while she'd slept.

Usagi watched Shingo as he inched toward the bed. His gait was shaky and unsure, as if he had never walked before and it was a brand new experience. He looked straight ahead, not at Usagi, but t_hrough_ her. His features remained impassive as he reached behind his back and pulled out something…

Okay. Enough. Usagi had just opened her mouth to scream a good and hearty command for him to "Scram!" when he pounced on top of her, driving her down back onto the bed. Her head flew backward and collided with the wooden headboard with a sickening hollow _thud_.

Then something was on top of her, smothering her. She couldn't breathe! _A pillow!_ The realization struck with the force of a brick wall. That, and the fact that he was trying to kill her.

Screaming did no good. She couldn't scream. Screaming required oxygen, which she was in sort supply of. Usagi thrashed about, trying to shake Shingo off. But it did no good. He seemed to weigh a ton. Frenzied hands flew upward, trying to take hold of something – anything. But they grasped only air. She tried to scream again, but the force of the pillow prevented her from even opening her mouth. It pressed down upon her so hard and heavy that he felt sure he'd broken her nose.

_Forget about your stupid nose!_ The rest of her body screamed. _He's trying to KILL you! Do something!_

But what? What?! The world was fading fast now. She felt so sleepy…. Too tired. Too tired to lift a finger. Too tired to do anything.

But she couldn't die! Not here in this room, smothered to death by her own brother! No. There were too many things she had yet to do. The asteroid, for example. If she died now, who would stop it from striking the Earth? Nobody else could do it.

She couldn't die here. Because if she did, everyone else would die, too! Motoki, Unazuki, her mom, her dad … everyone. She had to fight. Even if that meant against her brother.

Without so much as a brain synapse, Usagi drover her left knee upward. It struck Shingo square between the legs and he uttered a grunted murmur of pain as the pillow's pressure let up a little.

That was all Usagi needed. She rolled over sideways and slammed onto the floor. The room spun. Blackness swam in and out before her eyes. Usagi got back to her feet shakily and spun around to see where Shingo was.

He was on her.

His right hand shot out and connected with her jaw. She cried out in pain and fell against her nightstand, knocking various trinkets to the floor. Shingo grabbed her by one pigtail and hoisted her back up. Something struck the side of her face with the force of a sledgehammer and she fell down once more. A liquid of some kind trickled its way down from her nose. Snot? Blood? Both?

A weapon! She had to find a weapon of some kind! Usagi's hands swept across the floor blindly and connected with something. She pulled whatever it was to her face quickly so that she could see it better. A wristwatch. She was about to cast it aside and begin the hunt for something else when it dawned on her that it wasn't a watch at all. It was her old communicator – the one she'd used as Sailor Moon to call on her fellow Soldiers for help.

Slow methodical footsteps circled around her like a shark, and she knew she wouldn't have much time before Shingo pounced again. She flipped the lid of the communicator up and pressed a button at random.

"This is Usagi! This is Usagi!! I need help! I'm being attacked!! Hel-"

Then it was gone. One of Shingo's hands bolted forward and snatched it from her. He brought it up toward his face, looking at it with a strange sense of fascination and intrigue. He tilted his head this way and that as someone (most likely Minako) yelled out over the other end – asking what the problem was and was she okay?

Still with no expression at all, Shingo flexed one hand suddenly and the communicator shattered with a shower of sparks.

_Now_ she was doomed. Even if they had heard her desperate call for help, it would take them a while to make it across town _to_ help. Hopeless. Despite her best intentions, she was going to die in this little room. It was the only way. There would be no rescue.

Shingo advanced slowly. He knew that he would win, so he was just taking things slowly. Usagi looked up into her brother's face and tried to glean some tiny morsel of information out of it – an explanation of why he was doing what he was doing, of what had _happened_ to him.

He took a step forward and then another and another, but then paused. He cocked his head to one side as if he'd heard something Usagi hadn't. And then Usagi heard it, too: a low hissing sound.

Luna stood in the doorway, every black hair on end, tail sticking straight up. Her back was arched in an intimidating S-shape. She kept her eyes trained on Shingo and flew forward, quick as lightning. She collided with his face, claws fully extended, and sent him thumbing to the ground.

A free second! Usagi saw her school uniform hanging on the closet door handle and ran toward it. She squeezed both eyes shut and was screaming out the transformation phrase even before her fingers had touched the brooch.

"Silver Moon Crystal Power, Make-Up! Silver Moon Crystal Power, Make-Up!!"

Something thudded hard against the wall behind her. A grunt. A heart-wrenching meow of pain.

_Oh, hurry up!! _Usagi tore the compact from the bow of the uniform and pressed it against her chest. It would work now. It would have to work now. "SILVER MOON CRYSTAL POWER-"

Shingo sprung forward and Usagi threw a leg out awkwardly. It missed its target by a mile.

"MAKE-UP!!"

Nothing. Not a flash. Not a chime to signal the beginning of the transformation process, nothing.

There was no time for tears, though. Shingo had her in a death-grip now and was pulling her in inch by inch – like a fisherman. He must've been enjoying this, after all this had to be part of his sick plan all along – the murder of his sister, Sailor Moon – but his face expressed no pleasure. His features looked to have been carved out of stone. Was this even him? This wasn't the Shingo Tsukino Usagi had know for most of her life! This wasn't the kid who still played with action-figures and would argue heatedly and at length that they were _not_ dolls.

But it was. There was no denying who she saw in front of her face, plain as day.She gazed into his blank eyes and thought; _I defended you to my friends! They all thought you were guilty, but I didn't. And this is how you repay me? Why? _

With one final show of strength, Usagi wretched her hands out from Shingo's grip – the transformation brooch falling to the carpet in the process. She bent down to retrieve it and then noticed what Shingo was holding in his left hand.

A butcher knife.

Okay … never mind that. It wasn't like it worked anyway.

Usagi flew back on her heels and fled. In some evil visual recess of her brain, she saw Luna, beaten and dead, lying in a puddle of blood back in her room. She wanted to turn around and check on her, but it was too late. So she ran. From her room and out into the hallway, she ran. Past the closed door to her parents' room. Were they home or still out singing up a storm? And if they _were_ home, how could they keep on sleeping while their son murdered their daughter in their own house?

Before, their house had seemed so tiny (especially when compared to Ami's luxurious penthouse or Rei's sprawling shrine) but now it was massive. It was a maze, a labyrinth, a death-trap from which there would be no escape.

Running like a lunatic, Usagi flew down the stairs and into the downstairs area. She could hear Shingo behind her, only inches away. With the knife.

_Move! MOVE!_ She commanded her feet. They felt like two lead stumps. Two uncoordinated lead stumps. One would stride forward and then try to take another step, almost bringing the whole house of cards falling down. It was like she'd forgotten how to run amid the chaos.

The front door came into view straight ahead.

Shielding her face with her arms, Usagi crashed through it. The door exploded off its hinges. Then there was a sudden _whoosh_ sound and a displacement of air as Shingo sliced through the empty space where Usagi had been standing not a moment ago.

She tumbled out onto the night-cloaked city beyond. He was still behind her. He would never give up the chase. Not until he had his way.

"_Usagi!!_"

Who had called her name? Usagi looked up and saw four female shapes in the darkness – Minako, Ami, Rei, and Makoto. Never before had she been so glad to see anyone in her life.

"He's behind me!!" She screamed. Her voice echoed jarringly across the empty streets. "He's behind me!!"

"Move!" Someone yelled.

"Jupiter Crystal Power!"

"Mars Crystal Power!"

"Venus Crystal Power!"

"Mercury crystal Power!"

"MAKE-UP!!"

Usagi shielded her eyes as the night erupted into flashes of green and red. But _only_ of green and red. Minako and Ami remained unchanged.

_Clop, clop, clop, clop! _

She could hear Shingo's running steps on the cobblestone pavement. Behind her. So close. Inches away.

"Duck!" Commanded Jupiter.

Usagi did as ordered. Her feet gave way and she hit the pavement, her vision erupting into starbursts upon impact.

"Jupiter Oak-"

Huh? What the… Usagi lifted up slightly and looked about. She saw Sailor Mars standing next to Minako and Ami. The two girls were looking down at their hands in confusion. They were mumbling something about how they couldn't transform. Sailor Jupiter, meanwhile, was full and center. A sizzling crown of oak leaves had appeared around her head and the sky overhead flashed green with the threat of lightning. Usagi looked behind her and saw Shingo, still running onward – the knife clutched in one outstretched hand, his face blank and like a statue.

He didn't know that he was about to be attacked. Didn't know or didn't care. Usagi looked back at Jupiter. The air around her was churning and popping with electricity. She was going to attack Shingo. And not just attack, either. She was going in for the kill!

No! She couldn't let that happen. Evil though he may be, Usagi couldn't stand by and watch her only brother, only sibling, be killed! No. She … she had to save him.

"Evolution!!"

Tiny bolts of lightning shot forward. Thunder roared overhead. Usagi bounced to her feet and braced herself for impact. Behind her, she could hear a surprised grunt from Shingo.

"Usagi! Get down!!" Jupiter.

No. She wouldn't. She would save her brother. She would…

The tiny hairs on her arms were standing up now. She could feel her teeth rattling inside her mouth as the wave of lightning crashed forward.

_Just let it be quick_, she thought as all other sound was drowned out by thunder crashes.

The attack struck her full on and lifted her up about three feet in the air. Lightning ripped her pajamas – the ones with the bunnies jumping over moons – to shreds. Her blood electrified and her heart stopped. The world was nothing but a series of explosions and endless noise. She slammed onto the street hard – a crispy electrocuted mess.

What happened next wasn't clear.

Voices. Many voices. One that sounded like Rei saying Shingo had gotten away – disappeared into the night. One that resembled Luna's, saying she would spend the rest of the night watching over Ikuko-Mama and Kenji-Papa should Shingo return and two crazy voices belonging to Ami and Minako screaming the simultaneous question "Why couldn't I transform?" And then Makoto, telling Usagi that she would spend the night with her. That it wasn't open to debate.

All the voices. In the haze and pain.

Why had she jumped in front of him and taken the full force of the attack in his stead? Why had she saved him when he had tried to kill her? Because he was her brother, yes, but even that excuse wasn't good enough anymore.

Cool tears ran down her cheeks. The chilly wetness felt good against blistered skin.

There would be a battle. The time would come when Usagi would have to choose between her brother and her friends. She would choose her friends. Of course. But what a painful choice it would be. What a painful choice it _was_. But the truth could be denied no longer. To refute it any longer after this would be crazy. She'd already been far too trusting and naïve already. The time had come to face facts, as unpleasant as they may be.

A strange guttural cry of anguish howled its way up from Usagi's lungs.

Her brother was the Wiseman.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Eight o'clock. Eight o'clock and no Satoshi. Hotaru paced around the living room anxiously, wringing her hands. Where was he? Where on earth? Frowning, Hotaru moved aside one velvet drape and peered outside. All was quiet. The protective ring of trees that circled the house remained still without the aid of wind. Up above, the sky was bright orange, a shade so fierce and startling that Hotaru found herself staring at it, entranced. It looked like a child's drawing. It didn't seem real.

The view offered by the floor-to-ceiling window was a beautiful one, but something was missing: no Satoshi strolling up the drive.

Then again, you couldn't see the whole front yard from these windows. The dining room would be better for keeping lookout. So Hotaru moved there. The view was better, but the stained glass distorted everything into a kaleidoscope of colors. And that wouldn't do. Hotaru wanted a clean, unobstructed perspective.

Ah. The front porch. She lasted about three seconds out there before the unbearable heat drove her back inside. She groaned as she slammed the front door shut behind her. Where was he? He'd said around 8:00, but what did that _mean_? Around eight could mean 7:45, 8:00 itself, or 8:15. And if you wanted to get really wacky, 8:30 was an all too real possibility as well. Around 8:00. Cloud he have been any more vague?

Maybe he wasn't coming at all. Hmm, that sounded entirely plausible, didn't it? Yes. Yes, it did. And that's what really sacred Hotaru the most. That's what had been keeping her from charging full-steam ahead and enjoying having a boyfriend. The fact that it could easily be all a joke. A colossal joke at her expense. It didn't quite match up, did it - the handsome student councilman and the mousy outcast? That kind of a hookup only occurred in movies. The far more likely scenario was that Satoshi had simply courted Hotaru as a joke and now that things looked serious, was going to pull up to her house with a carload of her jeering schoolmates and they would all take turns throwing eggs in her face.

And how they would laugh. Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha.

Because the whole thing had been a joke - the kisses, a lie.

If that were indeed the truth, it would be unbearable. If that day ever came – the final climax, the final prank – Hotaru would kill herself. No lie. She came to that decision easily and without any hesitation at all. If her first taste of love turned out to be nothing but a joke, death would be a welcome respite from living the rest of her life with that knowledge.

"Expecting someone?"

Hotaru jumped and cried out in surprise. While she'd been off contemplating various suicide techniques, Haruka had miraculously materialized at her side. The one thing that never failed to astound Hotaru was the way Haruka always managed to tread the thin line between genders. She could easily pass for either. Take today, for example. Today, she'd flipped totally to the masculine, wearing ripped jeans and a tough-looking leather jacket over a faded rocker T. Her face was devoid of any makeup. Her breasts were nothing more than small bumps underneath the heavy leather. Even though Hotaru knew the person standing before her was anatomically female, she couldn't shake the visual cues that it was a man.

"Satoshi. We're going out together."

Haruka did a funny little thing with her lower lip and thrust her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"What?" Hotaru prompted.

"You sure are spending a lot of time with him, huh?"

The way it had been said sounded almost … negative. Like it was a bad thing. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, no. No." Haruka waved a hand in the air to dispel that notion. "I just wonder if maybe you're spending too much time with him."

_As opposed to what_? Hotaru thought angrily. _Sitting up in my room by myself like I _had_ been doing? Whatever._

"What's in there?" Asked Haruka, pointing to a large shopping bag resting on the floor next to Hotaru's feet.

"Nothing." She could see Haruka gearing up for another barrage of questions - that something had to be in the bag because why else would it be right there, and where would Satoshi be taking her, and blah, blah, blah – so she switched subjects quickly. "You seem to be going somewhere yourself. Where are you off to?" _All butched up_ was what threatened to follow immediately after, and Hotaru had to bite her tongue to cut the hurtful words off. For one suspenseful moment, she was certain that she'd said them regardless, but Haruka didn't seem to make any kind of gesture like she'd been offended and Hotaru was able to relax.

Close call.

"Oh, I've got two tickets to see the motorbike rally over at the coliseum and was planning on taking Michiru, but…" She shrugged and sighed. "She wouldn't even speak to me when I knocked on her door to ask if she wanted to tag along. I don't know what her problem is."

Hotaru nodded. She hoped the gesture looked sympathetic enough. "Probably for the best, anyway. I can't exactly picture Michiru at a motorbike rally, can you?"

Sighing again (the sound was beginning to grate on Hotaru's nerves), Haruka mumbled a listless "I dunno". She then slapped her hands together and smiled. "So you and your mushie-wushie are going off tonight? Where, might I ask?"

Danggit! She'd managed to work in the incessant questioning anyway. "To the high school's end of year festival. Satoshi says he can get me in for free."

"_Well!_ Sounds like a good deal to me. You sure are dolled up for the occasion. You could be a model."

Even the modest Hotaru had to admit that she looked good. _Dang_ good. She was wearing a clingy black dress with short sleeves that puffed out away from her shoulders like elegant cotton balls. Along the front of the dress were tiny diamond-shaped cutouts with the tiniest bit of skin peeking out. The frock had been pretty expensive, gobbling up all of her allowance for the last ten weeks, but the sensation of actually looking beautiful and feeling good about herself for a change … it'd been worth every bit of it. But that wasn't the extent of it. Faux diamond earrings dangled from each ear and she'd even gone as far to steal a tube of lipstick from Michiru and paint her lips with it. The color had been something called "Simply Natural" and it didn't look like she was wearing anything at all. According to all the fashion magazines, this was the style. Personally, Hotaru didn't understand what the point was in using something if it didn't look like you were wearing it in the first place. But then again, she didn't know much about such matters.

To top it all off, she'd even tried to put a little curl in her hair. It had looked good for all of about six seconds and then fell back to its previous bone-straight self.

"The end of year festival." Haruka chuckled to herself as she recalled a memory from long ago. "We used to have a lot of fun at those things, me and Michiru, back when we were in school. Usagi too, even though one of us would always have to take her home 'cause she'd get sick from eating so much cotton candy." Another titter. "I remember once…"

Oh, for the love of- Now Hotaru would have to sit through another story time episode. She'd have to listen and pretend to be paying attention while Haruka regaled her with stories of yesteryear – of a time when she'd been on the track team and all the girls at school admired her. Of a happier time when she and the other girls had all been going to high school together (never mind Hotaru and Setsuna). Of a time when Michiru and Haruka had actually been a couple. Heh heh heh.

But thankfully, story time was cut short by the sound of the doorbell's deep and hollow _DONG!_ ringing throughout the house.

Talk about being saved by the bell. Hotaru charged for the door and nearly yanked it off its hinges in the rush to avoid a trip down Memory Lane. Satoshi stood there on the stoop with his head turned over one shoulder, admiring the fiery sunset. An enormous bouquet of flowers was grasped in one hand. Hotaru's heart swelled with emotion at the sight of this gift. Somehow it proved that it was real. All of it. The love she was experiencing wasn't a joke.

"Wow! Are those for me?"

Satoshi's head pivoted around. He raised the hand with the flowers and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped suddenly. The one arm remained motionless in the air, half-extended, looking like some kind of malfunctioning robot, while his mouth grew into a large O of astonishment. Hotaru felt the weight of his dark eyes as they traveled over her body, starting at the top and then working their way down. They paused briefly on her chest and then moved on.

A strange tingling sensation tickled its way down Hotaru's spine. She straightened up, moving her shoulders back and lifting her chin up. _Pride._ What a new concept it was.

"Are those for me?" She asked again, pointing to the bouquet.

Satoshi did a double take from Hotaru to the flowers in his hand. He stared at them with confusion, as if they had just appeared there in his hand by the act of some incognito magician. He then extended the rest of his arm and handed the floral arrangement to Hotaru.

She took them with a wink. They smelled lovely. She buried her nose deep into the tulips and roses and baby's breath and who-knew-what-else and inhaled deeply. Heaven. Pure paradise. "They're beautiful."

"Not nearly as beautiful as you, though." Satoshi whistled, not the lewd noise that construction workers sometimes made at Michiru, but an act of genuine, unsolicited admiration.

Money _well_ spent. And to be quite honest, he didn't look so bad himself. Product of some kind had obviously been used in his hair, slicking it back and up into glistening jet-black spikes. His shirt – red, and made from a material that resembled silk – was tucked securely into sleek black slacks and the first two buttons remained unbuttoned, showing off a simple silver chain that hung around his check.

"Come on in." Hotaru moved aside and shut the door behind him. She saw his eyes drift to Haruka and she bent down, grabbed the large shopping bag at her feet with one hand, took hold of his hand with the other, and bolted past her - lest the two of them get started talking about cars or transmission fluid or motor-axels or whatever it was that auto-enthusiasts like them discussed. She was glad that they two of them seemed to have hit it off, but sometimes you just wanted a little alone time.

Once they had made it to the relative safety of the living room, Hotaru allowed herself to ease up a bit. "These flowers are so pretty." She took another whiff. "I'm going to put them in my room right now. Come on up, if you want to."

"Leave the door open!' Haruka cried gleefully from the foyer.

Hotaru pretended not to have heard. She led the way up the oak staircase, carrying the wonderful bouquet in the crook of one arm while holding on to the strings of the shopping bag with the other. Satoshi offered to carry the bag, but she refused. _No sense in spoiling the surprise early. _

The top of the stairs unfolded out into a sprawling richly carpeted corridor, wood paneled and lit with the aide of crystal chandeliers bolted to the ceiling. Paintings hung on the walls every few feet or so. All were originals. All had the same theme – the sea. A clam beach scene with a family of four splashing about in the ocean's waves, a small row boat caught within the maelstrom of a fierce hurricane, a mermaid combing her hair, perched upon a jagged rock in the midst of a flat desert of water – each picture was different but tied together with the same common theme. And writ in the lower right corner of each painting, a name: Michiru Kaioh.

Each painting was a breathtaking work done in differing styles. Hotaru thought they were called _schools_, but didn't know for sure. All she knew was that one picture could look identical to a photograph – oftentimes _better_ than a photograph, almost like the work in question was a window that you could open and call out to the subject on the other side and get a response – and the one next to the super-realistic one could be in the flat angular style of Picasso. Most artists had their favorite styles, their favorite schools. Most, upon finding their niche, stayed there. Michiru did not. She could easily move between them all. The realistic, the whimsical, the modern, the downright odd – they all came naturally to her and she painted each with the skill of a master. Hotaru often thought it a shame that she was better known for her music than her paintings. She enjoyed listening to Michiru play her violin (or cello, or whatever she happened to be playing that particular day), but the paintings spoke to her. They had the ability to transport her to different places. Each painting represented a different world. New. Unexplored.

Speaking of Michiru…

Hotaru walked up the hall a ways and stopped outside the second door to the right. Before, Michiru and Haruka's room. Now only Michiru's. Hotaru placed one hand against the smooth wood of the door and listened. She didn't know what she was expecting to hear – hysterical crying perhaps, or maybe crashes and small explosions as Michiru tore her room apart in a fit of rage. But no. There was only silence. _Hmm. She's probably sleeping,_ thought Hotaru. _That's all she does these days._ _I wonder if she's okay. _A part of her _did_ worry. Something was going on between her and Haruka, and part of Hotaru really wanted to set everything right again. Part of her wanted to knock on the door and ask Michiru if she could come in and maybe they could talk about whatever it was and maybe together they could figure it out.

"My room's at the end of the hall," Hotaru said, moving away from Michiru's room.

The two of them walked further on and when they got to the designated door, Hotaru opened it and flipped on the wall light switch. Dozens of lamps placed around the room instantly came alive, bathing the place with soft illumination. Even with so many lamps scattered around, they did little to dispel any darkness. All the bulbs used to power them were of the lowest wattage possible. Thick curtains made of a heavy black material hung over the windows, obscuring any natural light that might dare enter.

"Wow, this is your room?" Satoshi stepped inside and walked over to the nearest lamp – something that resembled a flower in bloom. "It's so cool!"

But it wasn't. Hotaru saw it now for the first time. Save for the high, arched ceiling and expensive canopy bed, the room was an exact duplicate of her old room from her previous life. Old habits really did die hard. But now, with Satoshi fluttering about the place, she felt something akin to disgust upon entering her room. This room symbolized her old life. It harkened back to a time when she was lonely, when she had no friends. No friends except….

_No!_ Hotaru shook her head violently to kill the name that her brain risked thinking of. _There's no use in thinking about people that will never be around anymore. She's not coming back. Not any more._

Oh, great. Now her eyes were tearing up. Why? What did it matter? She shouldn't be feeling sad! Things were so much better now than they had had been. Now she had a boyfriend, and confidence, and lived with people that actually cared for her.

Smiling at the way Satoshi was taking everything in, Hotaru walked over to a large desk and placed the bouquet that he'd given her between two tiffany lamps. "Okay," she said, turning around. "Ready for your present?"

"Present?" Satoshi crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me you're joking."

"Nope. You did something for me and I did something for you." She took the big shopping bag and handed it over to him. "I hope you like it. And if you don't, lie."

Eyeing her suspiciously, as if he suspected that she'd filled the bag with venomous snakes, he reached inside. He dug around for a bit. "I feel something hard."

Hotaru nodded.

"Hmm. Hard and smooth."

She laughed. "Just take it out of the bag already!"

Boyish glee washed over Satoshi's face as he pulled the object up out of the bag. "I don't believe it! This is so awesome! You … you shouldn't have!"

It was a crystal ball. Hotaru had seen it in a store window walking home after taking Satoshi to Rei's to aid in identifying Minako's attacker. And when she saw it, she simply had to get it for him. It had cost an arm and a leg, effectively cleaning out her small bank account, but what good was a psychic without a crystal ball? Besides, it'd been worth it, seeing the way he was reacting now.

"You've got to be kidding! I saw this same thing in a store window the other day and was going to get it, but forgot! Wow!" A piece of tissue paper hung stubbornly onto the swirling, tarnished gold base of the thing and Satoshi tore it off. He held it away form himself and admired it. A dozen warped lights glowed back from within the deeps of the orb and their light was reflected back out into the room, creating a beautiful kaleidoscope effect on the ceiling. "It must have cost a fortune."

"Nope," Hotaru lied. "And it isn't really crystal. It's just glass. I hope that doesn't make a diff-"

"It's great. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Satoshi pulled her close and laid a thick wet one on the side of her face.

She made a face and playfully wiped the slobber off. "We better be getting a move on."

They exited the room and just before closing the door, Hotaru looked back and sighed. It looked like a funeral home, her room. She decided that when she returned from the festival, she'd start redecorating.

Haruka had vanished from the foyer downstairs and from the entire house in general. Off to the motorbike rally, most likely.

At the front door, Satoshi opened it for Hotaru and she flipped a haughty hand in the air. "Thank you, _dah_ling."

"No problem, Miss Tomoe. Now let me get the car door for you."

"Yes, yes. Please do." Hotaru giggled. She walked down the porch's steps and out into the yard.

There, parked right under the kitchen windows, was a sleek blood-red vehicle – a convertible. Two white stripes ran down the length of the long hood. The image of a horse caged within a rectangle stood out in chrome over the grill. Something was written in Roman lettering just above that, and Hotaru activated her fancy junior high education to discover that the letters combined to create the word "FORD".

"Nice car," Hotaru said. It could've been an old clunker for all she knew. Like fashion and makeup, she was pretty much clueless when it came to the world of automotives.

"Yep. A genuine 1967 Ford Mustang. Restored, of course."

This revelation meant little to Hotaru, but she could see that Satoshi held a lot of stock in it, so she made the necessary wow noises.

"My baby. I got her two – no, _three_ years ago last month. She's been sitting in a repair garage for the last few weeks. I got her back just yesterday."

"Really? How old are you? I thought you had to be at least 18 to get your license."

Satoshi grinned as he opened the passenger door for her. "My dear Miss Tomoe, you can get practically anything in life, provided you're willing to shout long enough for it. That's a life lesion, by the way."

Hotaru nodded and filed that little bit of information away in her memory banks. She reached up for the seat belt and was clicking it into place when her fingers brushed up against something grainy and coarse. Frowning, she lifted up a little ways off the seat and looked down.

Sand. The entire seat was covered in it. Odd. Had he just come from the beach? That didn't seem quite right, somehow. Odaiba beach was the only beach within Tokyo's city limits, and while he could have easily gone there and made it back in time to pick Hotaru up, she doubted it. If he had, he would've certainly taken time to vacuum out the car seats before leaving to pick up his girlfriend – someone like him, so proud of his car.

Strange. Hotaru wiped the seat off with one hand and sat back down. No big deal.

The leather of the driver's seat squeaked lushly as Satoshi slid into place behind the wheel. "Ready to go?"

"Yessir." A question flapped its way across her mind then and she decided to vocalize it on a whim. "So what are your parents like? I'd like to meet them sometime, if that's okay."

The hand holding the keys froze. A tiny shudder and something that sounded like a half-repressed cough served as the only answers for a long time, but then Satoshi set his mouth and replied, "My parents … are no longer around."

"Oh. I – I'm so sorry." Hotaru blushed and quickly averted her gaze straight ahead to the windshield. She didn't know if "no longer around" meant that they were dead or if they had simply left Satoshi. Either way, it was a shame. A tragedy. To live alone by yourself … to hear nothing but the oppressive silence day after day …. That was Hotaru's worst nightmare – to be alone. She suddenly felt a great swell of pride for Satoshi, for the fact that he'd been brave enough to continue on living without the aid of parents or guardians. Hotaru felt the need to apologize again and did so. "I'm really, really sorry. I get so carried away sometimes. It's just … I was thinking that you've met my family and I just thought …. I'm sorry. Really."

"Don't be." Satoshi turned his head almost mechanically toward her and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not."

Anyone else upon hearing this confession might have been shocked and labeled the words heartless and unkind – maybe even cruel. But Hotaru understood. Just like the time he had confided in her regarding his powers, she could sympathize perfectly. From the way his voice had taken on that cold edge alone, it was obvious he held some kind of grudge against them. Maybe they'd beaten him. Abused him. Hotaru knew a lot about that subject. She could practically give a lecture on the subject of parental abuse, couldn't she?

In life, Souichi Tomoe had worn many hats and went by many variations of his name. To his colleagues in the scientific field, he was Doctor Tomoe. His students called him _Professor_ Tomoe. But to Hotaru, he was simply "Papa". She could still picture him. She could picture him quite easily. His steely eyes framed by those perfectly round spectacles, his tousled prematurely white hair, his white lab coat that he always wore, no matter the occasion – this was the image that came to her when she summoned up her father in her memories. And it wasn't just an image. Sometimes she could even recall his scent – sour formaldehyde. Oh, how she had hated that smell, that stench. On the rare occasions that he had tucked her into bed – that smell. Upon entering a room that had been occupied by him a moment before – that lingering smell. Always and forever.

The outside world saw him for what he appeared to be: a geneticist of some renown, or if that didn't strike a cord, certainly they knew him as the wealthy founder of the exclusive Infinity Academy. But Hotaru had lived with him and called him father and knew the true face behind the public persona.

Souichi Tomoe had been a monster.

What else would you call it when your own father sees you as nothing more than a test-subject on which to carelessly experiment? He'd been a monster and in the end, had literally transformed into one – shedding his humanity completely in the process. Super Sailor Moon had put and end to his twisted existence with a cry of "Rainbow Moon Heart Ache." She'd killed him. Hotaru held no ill will toward her for that act, though. Sometimes it's kill or be killed. She wasn't naïve enough to think that all the problems of the world could be solved with kind words and an understanding smile. Sometimes when words aren't enough, there is no choice but to fight.

Now, Hotaru knew he was dead, _had_ been dead for quite a while, but every now and then, she'd wake up in the middle of the night, full of terror, shaking with dread and convinced that her father lurked behind the closed closet door, ready to snatch her and drag her back to her old sad life. And then she'd calm down and listen to the cold wind howl outside and the sound of Haruka snoring and _wonder_. She would wonder when the evil started. Had it been there all along? Had Professor Tomoe looked down at Hotaru with greed in his eyes as the doctors were snipping her umbilical cord and thought, "I can use this one. Yes, she'll do nicely"? Or had the lab fire triggered the madness?

The lab fire …. when he'd made the pact with the alien Death Busters and signed over his soul.

Given a choice, Hotaru would've chosen to believe the latter. At least that meant he had actually loved her at some point, no matter how briefly.

She shook her head and sighed. Her father had been a joke, but what about her mother?

Keiko Tomoe had been her name and Hotaru often thought about her with fond memories. She remembered the fun times they'd had playing outside in the yard, going on picnics, or just sitting at home on a Saturday night watching TV. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, soft-spoken and dignified. Hotaru wished she could think about her more often, but couldn't. The shadow of her father was always there. He towered over the image of Keiko like an executioner. He lingered behind the scenes of the happy memories. He was a part of all Hotaru's memories and it bothered her so much that in the end, she could hardly bare to think of her mother at all.

Her mother – the only bright and shining spot in her previous life.

The car lurched forward as Satoshi shifted into D. The metal monstrosity beneath the hood gave out a startling battle cry and then they were off – away from the house in the clearing, through the woods and into the city's outskirts.

Intelligent and charming though Satoshi might've been, there was one thing he most certainly was _not_: a safe driver. He took no prisoners on the road. That was evident from the moment they spun away from the house, rubber burning, motor protesting. It got worse once they were on the highway with its wide lanes. The Mustang took any type of turn sharp and at full-speed. Full-speed being a constant 20 mph over the speed limit.

Hotaru was scared at first, but only at first. At first, the sudden wind and the noise proved almost too much for her and she had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut. She held onto the seatbelt the way a drowning victim might grasp a life preserver in the ocean. She tried to relax by counting her breaths, but couldn't concentrate enough to do that. The wind slapped her face and tore her hair. Each car that Satoshi recklessly passed made a _voom-voom-voom_ sound that nearly drove Hotaru mad. _Why doesn't he slow down?!_ She thought hysterically_. We're going to have a wreck!_

But the more time that went by without a wreck, the more she began to relax. In time, she even managed to coax one eyelid up to look over at Satoshi. He was over in the driver's seat with one arm bent over the top of the door, steering the car with just the fingertips of the other hand. He looked cool as a cucumber. Seeing him that way, so calm and indifferent to the landscape whirling past, loosened Hotaru up a little. She opened both eyes now and forced herself to look around.

Actually, it was pretty exhilarating – the way he would get right up behind the car ahead, almost eating its bumper, and pass it at breakneck speed, the way he would zoom through a stoplight with only milliseconds to spare – it was like an action movie. Yes. The bad guys were up ahead, they had just robbed a bank, and the only thing that stood between them and absolute freedom were Officers Yomata and Tomoe – agents of the Law, defenders of the Peace! Hotaru laughed and stretched out both arms up in the air, over her head. She closed her eyes once more and let the wind strike her with all its might. It felt good and cool against her teeth. It was a baptism. She opened her eyes and saw buildings zoom past in a flash of concrete and iron. They were going so fast that the pedestrians on the sidewalks seemed to be walking backwards. The cityscape unfurled like a scroll before them and Hotaru was suddenly overcome with a sense of total freedom. Like she was a bird and could fly on forever and without a destination and not suffer any consequence for it. The sensation almost brought tears to her eyes.

So when Satoshi maneuvered the car into a parking space at Juuban High, it was with some regret on Hotaru's part.

By now the sun had long since fallen below the horizon line and was warming another part of the world. But all for the better. Thousands upon thousands of stars twinkled high overhead – tiny pinpricks of light in the black blanket of space. Hotaru gazed up a them with a sense of serene reverence. She wondered if space really was infinite or whether it just ended someplace, leaving a cosmic white expanse in the area beyond. People always said that it went on forever and was never-ending, but how could anyone know a thing like that for certain? Hotaru thought maybe it _did_ have an end, way out there on the other side of the universe, maybe, but still there. After all, everything with a beginning has to have an end somewhere, doesn't it?

"It's so pretty," Hotaru breathed.

Satoshi moved beside her, crystal ball in both hands, and nodded. "Yeah, but you haven't seen nothin' yet."

He nodded north, in the direction of the festival, and what Hotaru saw took her breath away. No words could've ever given justice to what her eyes took in that night. She saw the Ferris wheel first. When she'd seen it before, it'd really been nothing more than a circular steel frame, but now it towered over everything else, completed and magnificent. It was bathed in flashing lights and spun slowly as the students in the brightly colored passenger cars screamed their glee and rocked back and forth. Up above the teeming mass hung the same glass lamps that Hotaru had seen (and was almost killed by) earlier. But they looked completely different now at night. They glowed splendidly, casting their colors down onto the crowd below. The twinkling lights of the Ferris wheel and other games and rides reflected off the thin strings they were attached to, giving the whole thing the appearance of a dewy morning spider-web.

Hotaru was so captivated by the spectacle that she would've likely stood there in the parking lot gazing at it the whole night had Satoshi not gently moved her toward the entrance. They moved forward and Hotaru wondered if he was going to pay her way. She decided that she wouldn't allow that. As the ticket box loomed closer, she dug into her pockets for any money she might have had the foresight to bring along.

But it ended up not even being an issue. Satoshi led her inside the fairgrounds, completely bypassing the line for tickets. The dreary-eyed girl working the counter didn't even look up as they passed by. _He must've already made some kind of arrangement_, Hotaru thought.

Now that they had breached the sanctum, even more wondrous sights and smells and sounds assaulted the senses. High school students ran this way and that, and Hotaru saw most of them were dressed to the nine's – the girls in sparkling dresses and the guys with ties. The joy in the air was unmistakable. Over to the right, seated at a picnic table, a boy held a pink swirl of cotton candy in one hand and was picking it off bit by bit and feeding it to his girlfriend, who was sprawled out on his lap.

Somebody screamed off to the left and a boy burst through the crowd, carrying a giggling blonde girl on his back. She was holding a flag of some kind in one hand and waved it madly at Hotaru as the piggyback express passed them by. She had to smile as they disappeared into the teaming mob. Such happiness. Such a loss of inhibition. A month ago, she would have envied that couple. She would've looked the other way as they ran past. But now she could smile and laugh alongside them. Now Hotaru felt perfectly at ease among the smartly dressed high schoolers. She could relate to the couples kissing behind every booth. She had joined their ranks. She knew that she could easily be the one being carried around on her boyfriend's back. If she so wished, Satoshi would feed her by hand. They were a Couple.

They passed by many booths, each representing a different club or sport or organization. Each beautiful, each decorated nicely. The Gardening Club's tent was made to look like an upturned Lily of the Valley (scientific name _Convallaria majalis_), with little opening in the petals to serve as the entrance and exit. The Supernatural Club's booth was open-aired, but featured a doorframe made of wood that the gullible would pass under to have their fortunes read. A curtain of gaudy beads served as the door. A long line had already formed there and a plump girl in braids was seated behind a large oak table, having her palm read by a male student wearing a crazy turban atop his head and dressed in a hideous multi-colored robe. He was looking down at the exposed palm with mock sincerity and made wild hand gestures in the air as he told all. The girl seemed impressed.

Hotaru laughed and wondered if Satoshi would be required to wear that getup when he took over. She hoped so. _That_ would make for great entertainment.

The astronomy tent looked more or less the same, except many of the posters had now been placed on easels and were positioned around the entrance to the booth. A decent sized crowd had gathered around the telescope, which had also been moved to the entrance and was pointed heavenward. Every now and then an "Ooh" or an "Ahh" would ripple through the huddle as a new person moved forward and rubbed elbows with the stars.

The dance floor next door had also been completed and was now packed to the gills with a multitude of epileptic students having seizures. An iron latticework hung over the dance floor itself, complete with a rotating disco ball and lights that flashed in time with the beat. Hotaru could not only hear the music, but feel it as well. It pulsed through her body and every thud of the bass rattled her teeth, causing them to quake in her gums. She looked over at the crowd circling the nearby booths and the students working the astronomy tent. They didn't seem in the least bit bothered by the racket. You probably got used to it after a while.

"Well, we're here." Satoshi took hold of Hotaru's wrist and was gently pulling her forward when her eye wondered to one of the posters. She snapped her fingers. "Oh! I almost forgot! I've come up with a name."

"A name?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember?" She moved over to the posters and tapped the one that declared that there were, in fact, _ten_ planets in the solar system. "I've been giving it some thought and I think I've come up with a winner."

"Oh?" Satoshi crossed his arms. "Let's hear it, then."

"Nemesis." Hotaru contemplated the sky above, as if the Mysterious Tenth Planet would suddenly appear and dominate the sky in gratitude. It didn't. There were only the stars, peaceful and unreachable. "Nemesis," she repeated. "The Greek goddess of retribution. It was her duty to punish those who sinned by way of hubris, all-encompassing arrogance and pride. A fitting title for a long-suffering forgotten mystery planet if there ever was one."

Satoshi was still as he mouthed the name silently. A grin spread its way over his lips and he disappeared between the black flaps of the tent without so much as a word to Hotaru. He was gone for a few moments but when he returned, he was carrying something small in his hands. A magic marker. Hotaru watched as he uncapped the lid and began to write something on the poster. After a few seconds, he stepped back and revealed the newly modified placard. It now read: Come See the Mysterious TENTH PLANET Of Our Solar System! NEMESIS!"

"It fits, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, then. Let's get this party started."

They locked hands and entered inside the astronomy tent. The interior was dark and had the feel of an observatory. A counter ran along one end of the place and Satoshi went behind it, motioning for Hotaru to join him. She did, feeling a little like one of those game show beauties – the ones who would drive the Brand New Car out onto stage and wave their hands in the air to the audience. She had the sudden urge to run over to the telescope, rub it down and inform the crowd gathered around it that they could either keep it, or exchange it for any one prize located behind the three mystery windows.

The urge passes quickly.

The evening passed quickly from there. Satoshi introduced Hotaru to the other students behind the counter and greetings were exchanged and hands were shook. They welcomed her with smiles and were glad that she came, stating that they could always use the help. They then wanted to know if maybe she would be interested in joining the astronomy club in a few years when she was of high school age. She replied she'd give the matter some serious consideration. Around 8:45, three boys approached the counter and asked for Satoshi. Hotaru took one look at their acne-covered faces and their_ Dragon Ball Z_ ties and instantly recognized them for what they were: nerds. But they were nice and funny and Satoshi greeted each one by name and slapped each one on the back, saying how glad he was that they could make it, that they weren't at home playing video games for a change. The four guys laughed and joked like old friends and seemed very impressed when he introduced them to Hotaru. And within minutes, she had joined in on the fun, doubled over in laughter as the three nerds recounted embarrassing stories of Satoshi (who had apparently been quite the nerd himself back in middle school).

They left for the Calculus Club's booth after a few more stories and were replaced by another group of boys. Where the nerd patrol had been short and skinny, this new batch was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. They introduced themselves as Satoshi's teammates on the school's swim team. They too laughed and joked with him, but Hotaru could see that they lacked any sort of close bond. He was cordial with them and answered their questions, but never instigated any of his own. He remained tight-lipped throughout the whole exchange and toward the end, looked to be in pain. Eventually conversation lagged and the swim team boys waved goodbye and vanished into the crowd. Hotaru glanced sideways and saw the unmistakable roll of Satoshi's eyes as he turned away and busied himself elsewhere.

When 9:00 rolled around, a poll was taken regarding the crowd's favorite planet. Earth placed first (so much for originality), but Hotaru was pleased to see that Saturn tallied in at a close second.

Around 9:15, the children were invited up front, were blindfolded and handed a stick, and instructed to try and hit a piñata version of the solar system (the last three plants after Saturn were MIA for some reason, to say nothing of Nemesis). The Sun popped around 9:22 and crapped a boatload of tiny candies all over the place. Anarchy ensued.

And at 9: 30, Satoshi asked Hotaru if she wanted to dance.

It took her by surprise, that question, and she conjured up the image of the dance floor in her mind's eye. She saw the writing mass of dancers and the way they convulsed spasmodically to the sound of the music. And if that was what passed for dancing these days – jerking and gyrating with no rhyme or reason to it – she figured she could at least give it a whirl. She could do a lot worse, she decided.

So she accepted, with a tinge of red on her cheeks, and followed him to the dance floor. But as luck would have it, the instant she stepped up onto the stage, the frenzied sound of J-Pop abated and was replaced by the elegant melody of a waltz. Hotaru froze. Her blood went icy. This wouldn't do. Mindlessly jerking around was one thing, but organized dance …. with coordinated movements – that was quite another.

That same thought had apparently occurred to many of the other dancers, who were now making way for a new, more sophisticated batch to take over. Hotaru tried to slip out with the former group, but Satoshi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't dance."

"Oh, really?" He smiled. "And you were so eager a while ago."

"That was different. I…." She tried to think of some excuse, some magical combination of words that would amount to a get-out-of-jail-free card. "I don't know the steps," she finished dumbly.

Laughing, Satoshi pulled her shaking body close. "There _are_ no steps. Just listen to the music and move to it. Come on."

Hotaru frowned. The night, before so friendly and warm, now felt alive with hostility. She could feel the weight of a thousand judging eyes, ready and eager to scrutinize her movement and point out the tiniest fault in her footwork. No. This wouldn't work. She couldn't so this. "Look," she whispered. "Let's just go back to the tent. I don't-"

"Okay, tell you what. Give me five minutes. If you aren't completely satisfied, you may leave."

Hmm. Five minutes. That was something like 300 seconds, right? She calculated all this up in her head before agreeing to anything. Three hundred seconds. It didn't seem too long. Maybe she could withstand it.

The blinking lights overhead faded into nothingness, casting the floor below into virtual darkness. The other dancers took on the appearance of ghosts, floating through the darkness, darting this way and that between the disco ball's revolving silver specks. At least that meant visibility was at a minimum.

Hotaru stepped forward and awkwardly lifted up her hands. "Where do I…"

Satoshi guided them to their designated locations, placing one on his shoulder and holding the other one out at an arm's length. His free hand wrapped its way around her waist. "Ready?"

"No."

"Just move in a triangle. That's all." He stepped forward suddenly, almost tossing Hotaru to the floor in the process. "One." Then sideways. "Two." Back now. "Three. See? Wasn't that easy?"

Actually, it _wasn't_ that bad. Hotaru grinned and allowed herself to be moved about the dance floor. She was clumsy at first, but with Satoshi's patience and teaching methods, she was soon twirling around like a pro. The invisible orchestra swelled, the violins belted out their stern rhythm, and two figures danced the night away, moving in perfect tandem. They had merged with each other. Instead of two, they were one. One complete entity pirouetting around with natural grace and ease. Hotashi. Satoaru. Call it what you like.

Hotaru closed her eyes as she dipped and twirled about. What a night. How magical. How perfectly magical. She only wished there was some other word that could convey the entire truth of it all. Beaming wistfully, she bent forward and brought her head upon Satoshi's chest. She could feel his heartbeat against one cheek – slow and steady. What a perfect couple they made. And that's what they were – a _perfect_ couple. True love. It's a rare thing.

The temperature seemed to drop. The music slowed and eventually faded into the background. Silence followed.

_Too soon_, Hotaru thought as she pulled away from her perfect match, eyes still closed. _I wanted it to go on forever. _She opened her eyes and-

And looked about in wonderment. The dance floor had vanished. The entire school courtyard had disappeared completely, for that matter. What had once been a scuffled wooden floor was now a highly polished entranceway. Orange-tinted walls had replaced the openness of the dance area. In something of a panic, Hotaru looked up, expecting to see the stars and the night sky above, but was greeted by the sight of a massive chandelier dangling overhead instead, dripping with crystals.

A restaurant.

Yes. Now she could see tables scattered about and could hear silverware clanking as diners seated at the tables raised glasses and utensils to mouths. A restaurant.

Hotaru couldn't believe it. Couldn't understand it. She backed up and took in more details – the elaborate flower-shaped sconces affixed to the walls, burning yellow and mysterious, the arched ceilings that noted the transition between various areas of the dining room, the etching in the wood walls….

Someone or _something_ touched her hand and she jerked both to her chest.

"Let's dance," Satoshi said. His voice seemed very faint and far away. "The music's still playing."

"But where … where are we?" Speaking took a fixed concentration.

Satoshi drifted closer. "The Maxim de Paris of Shanghai," he said simply, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Hotaru studied the restaurant's patrons. They sat at their tables, eating their meals and sipping their wine. They didn't seem to notice either of them standing there. A waiter dressed in a red vest and bowtie would breeze by every few minutes, making a wide arc around Hotaru and Satoshi's stagnant forms. It was like he couldn't see them but could sense their presence regardless.

"But _how_ are we here? I mean …. I guess I'm dreaming but…."

"You're close. It's a sort of waking-dream." Satoshi leaned in close, like he was about to reveal some huge secret. "It's called astral-travel. Our bodies are still at the school, but our minds are here. In this place."

_What? _"You mean you did this? You mean you have the power to do this?"

He nodded. "I wanted to take you someplace beautiful. Don't get me wrong, the festival's nice and all, but… This place is a thousand times better. The Maxim de Paris. I came here once with my … with my parents. I must've been only six at the time, but I've never forgotten it. It left quite an impression on me. I thought I was in Heaven."

"It is beautiful."

"Come. The music's almost ended."

They came together once more, two souls without bodies, dancing in a restaurant a hundred miles away to no music that they could hear. Hotaru nuzzled against Satoshi and couldn't help but think that she'd won the contest. She thought of Usagi and Mamoru and how happy they always seemed to be, and that was all very well and good, but she had to bet that _Mamoru_ couldn't take Usagi on astral-trips to exotic locales.

She had to see it once more – that mythical placed called the Maxim de Paris. Hotaru opened her eyes and was crushed to see the familiar sight of the high school spread out around her.

They had returned.

The music came to its heightened climax and Satoshi dipped Hotaru low to the floor before planting a kiss on her and leading her off stage. "How'd you like that?" he asked.

"I'm glad I spared the five minutes."

That seemed to tickle him and he threw his head back and laughed. "I'm glad to hear it." He smiled and reached a hand into his pockets, withdrawing a wad of yen, which he pressed to Hotaru. "Well, I'm due at the Supernatural club. Think you can amuse yourself 'til I'm done?"

She looked at the crumpled bills in her hand and said jokingly, "I thought you said you could get me in for free."

"I could and I _did_ that already. But the rest of the night requires the big bucks, I'm afraid." He patted her on the shoulder. "I won't be long."

And then he was off.

That left Hotaru wondering down the artificial streets by herself. Booths flanked her on each side and she visited each one. The Geography club, the Foreign Language club – even the local dentist had set up his own little area and was handing out pamphlets to anyone unfortunate enough to pass by. They featured crazy-looking dancing anime teeth, carrying toothbrushes with the words "Be True To Your Teeth, Or We'll Be False To You!" circled in word balloons.

A multitude of games were also being offered. There was the ever-classic throw-a-ball-and-knock-down-the-milk-bottles game, along with Go Fish, the Guess Your Weight scale, (where the man operating it took one look at Hotaru and screamed out "44 kilograms!", which was close, but no cigar). The Test 'O Manhood hammer and bell game seemed to be a big hit with the guys and Hotaru noted, with some fascination, that many of the prizes were plush dolls of Sailor Moon and V. The V-doll didn't look too bad, but the Sailor Moon plushie didn't look a thing like Usagi.

Hotaru wondered around aimlessly and counted the money she'd been given. It amounted to a lot. More than enough to play any game. None of them looked particularly interesting to her anyway. She didn't know _what _to spend it on. That was, until she saw the jar marked "Earthquake Disaster Relief Fund" perched atop one lone booth off to the side. A tired-looking old man sat behind it, guarding the three-coin contribution.

Hotaru moved up to it and while the man was looking away, folded the mass of bills she carried in fourths and dropped every bit of it down the slot and walked away before anything could be said.

Since the games held no fascination for her, she decided to swing by the Supernatural club and see how Satoshi was making out. She clawed her way through the throng of students and teachers and realized suddenly that even though this appeared to be a joyous time, a level of sadness lurked behind the smiles and laughter. It hung like an oppressive weight in the air. Flashes erupted here and there as cameras went off, chronicling the last days of high school friendships. This _was_ the End of Year Festival, after all, which meant that after this, it was over. After this, it was the Real World.

Feeling like something of an outsider for the first time, Hotaru made her way to the front of the courtyard. She saw the Supernatural club's booth, but the line of people from before had disappeared and the chair behind the fortune-telling table was vacant. Frowning, she made her way closer and saw the line still existed, but in a slightly different location. She also saw that Satoshi had abandoned the chair and table for the ground. He sat cross-legged upon a blanket and with his crystal ball in his lap. No turban or rainbow robe, unfortunately.

A middle-aged man sat across from him and while Hotaru couldn't be certain of what was being said, she could tell the man was amazed. At one point he turned around to the others in line and said quite audibly, "This guy's _good_!"

He took his time with each client and the line grew longer before it got shorter. Hotaru caught snippets of conversation as people filed past her after having their fortunes told. They expressed their astonishment by saying things like, "He knew everything about my life – my family, friends, my past – everything!" and "That was just a little bit creepy" and "I wonder if he's the real thing…".

This went on for an hour and then somebody appeared to relieve Satoshi. He got up, brushed off the seat of his pants, and made his way over to Hotaru. The night from there on in was theirs completely. They ate, they laughed, they played games. They rode the kiddie roller coaster (the one in the shape of a giant caterpillar) and Hotaru screamed as it coasted down the three-foot drop and hung on to Satoshi for dear life. Then came the Ferris wheel. It took them high above the churning crowds and for those precious few moments, nothing else existed save the two of them, holding onto each other in that tiny car as it dipped upward and down in a graceful arc.

But as exciting as the evening was, sleep eventually got the best of Hotaru. It weighted down her eyes and slowed her steps and she finally had to tell Satoshi that they'd better call it a night. He nodded and they left the carnival behind them as they made their way back to the parking lot. He chivalrously opened the passenger side door for her and she plopped down, dog tried, onto the leather seat.

_It can't get any better than this. It really can't_ – that was her last thought as her eyes slid shut and the darkness of sleep pervaded, overpowering all else.

…

Wind in her face awakened her. With a fluttering of eyelids, she yawned and stretched and tried to come completely around.

"You're awake," said Satoshi from the driver's seat.

"Yep." Hotaru yawned again and rubbed her eyes. She looked down at the car's clock and saw that it was already way past 11:00. That sent a shiver of anxiety through her. She had no idea it was so late. Haruka would no doubt be waiting up for her and wouldn't take it lightly when she breezed through the door at a quarter 'till midnight. She could hear it already: "Where've you been?! And more importantly, what have you been _doing_?!" She sighed. Poor Satoshi. No amount of sweet talk would get him out of this one. He'd be lucky to make it out of the house alive. …Maybe she'd just tell him to drop her off at the edge of the forest instead.

Gah. Hotaru looked about, wanting to get a fix on her location. The further away from home she was, the more time she'd have to concoct a believable story. The simple truth – that they had just lost track of time – would never be believed.

But as she looked around, she came to realize that she had no idea where they were. There were no recognizable landmarks. Many of the buildings she had never seen before. They towered to the sky, glass edifices - monuments to the wealth and prosperity from long ago. The people milling about on the sidewalks defiantly weren't Hotaru's crowd. For the most part, they were dressed in suits and stylish dresses and chatted away on cell-phones as they entered into the shops along the street. That surprised her - the fact that places were still open this time of night. They all looked very classy, very _upscale_.

"Are we taking a shortcut?" She asked.

"No," answered Satoshi, not even turning his head from the road. "We're going to my place."

Oh. Good. At least they weren't aimlessly wondering around the city. They were going to his place. His place. Wait a minute… _His place?! _Hotaru nearly choked on her own saliva. She sat bolt upright in the passenger seat and took in every detail of Satoshi's face to see if he was kidding.

He wasn't.

She sunk back down. She put a hand to her face. "His place." What did that mean? And what were they going to do at "his place" at 11:30? Watch movies? Play a board game? Hotaru sighed and watched fancy shops and eateries whiz by. Part of her wanted to keep going forward –if only to learn more about her boyfriend, if nothing else- but another part, a saner part, wanted to tell him to just turn the car around and take her home. She wanted to go home. She wanted sleep. It'd been a perfect night already. She didn't want to screw it all up in the last few minutes of the day.

But she remained silent.

They drove deeper into the ritzy heart of Tokyo, past high-end nightclubs and upscale apartment complexes. At one point, she recognized Ami's apartment building as they drove past. Then it was lost behind them.

A massive, gleaming building of glass and shining steel loomed suddenly out of the nothingness and they slowed. Satoshi maneuvered the Mustang into the multi-level parking deck that stood next to it and found a place near the entrance.

"Here we are," he said. "Home sweet home."

Hotaru tried to speak but couldn't. She settled for a nod and something that amounted to a smile.

He took her hand in his and together they walked out into the chilly night. The stars had all but vanished thanks to the unrelenting glow of a thousand street-lamps. It seemed as if the festival and all its beauty was a world away.

They approached the front of the monolithic apartment building and the doors to the place slid open automatically. Music from the lobby wafted out into the street. Satoshi moved first and Hotaru followed. The lobby was huge, decorated in golds and greens and floored in marble. A piano sat in the middle of a tiny little conversation area and played _Moonlight Sonata _by itself, with no help from human hands. Hotaru watched it for the longest time, mesmerized beyond belief. It was like a ghost was playing it – a ghost playing for the other ghosts sitting on the empty chairs around it.

She had to force herself to look away.

"Come on."

Satoshi took her by the shoulders and led her to the elevators. He pressed the UP button and the beautifully sculpted metal doors opened instantly. They stepped inside and he pushed the button for the 30th floor.

The long trip up was made in silence, giving Hotaru time to admire the green marble floor and pearl-topped floor buttons. To keep her mind occupied, she counted all of them, all the buttons –starting at B.

B. G. . 6.

And that's as far as she got before the doors opened again, spewing them out into the 30th floor hallway. Satoshi led the way, of course, and Hotaru marveled at the rich carpets, the high ceilings and the beautiful pieces of artwork hanging on the walls. It really kicked the Tenoh house in the head.

In time, they came upon a door marked "3010 – Yomata" and Satoshi stepped forward, pulling a keycard out from his wallet. Hotaru watched him and wondered why he'd made such a big deal about _her_ house when he'd first seen it. _He_ lived in a magnificent penthouse in the heart of the city – so why had he seemed so impressed with her house? It looked like a dump compared to what she'd seen so far_. Maybe he was just being polite_, she thought. But … he had seemed so impressed! Hmph. What a great actor he'd been.

It seemed to be taking a long time to unlock the door and she thought about asking him what kind of jobs his parents had had in order to afford such a place – and what he had to do to keep living here with them out of the picture. But then thought better of it. He hadn't seemed particularly thrilled with the subject of kinfolk when she'd brought it up earlier.

"Okay. We're here."

He stepped aside and Hotaru entered into the Yomata residence. The first thing that surprised her was how wide and open it all was. The entryway alone seemed to be twice the size of her living room back home. The second surprising thing was that it looked that way because of the total lack of furniture or decoration of any kind. Even the walls were a plain white color – no paint, no wallpaper. Nothing.

They moved inward a bit and came upon a larger room with a massive window that took up one entire wall. Hotaru assumed it to be the living room, but with no furniture, it was hard to tell. The view offered by the window was a breathtaking one, made all the more accessible by the absence of any kind of curtain or drape.

"My room's right down the hall there. Last door on the left." Satoshi gestured to a sterile-looking corridor. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I use the restroom?"

Hotaru nodded and they both went their separate ways. She took baby steps down the hall and made a point to count each door she came across. The hall was perfectly symmetrical with three doors on each side and one at the end to balance things out. All were shut except the last one on the left. His room.

His room in his place.

Hotaru whimpered and brought a hand to her mouth. She didn't want to be here. Well, she did and didn't. It … well … she just didn't know what to expect.

She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into His Room. It looked pretty much like the rest of the place, except it actually contained furniture. Three pieces, to be exact. A basic, no-frills bed lay wedged between a bureau and a desk and that was it. No posters, no books, no TV. Just the white walls, the bed, the bureau, and the desk. _Fin._

Wait a second. That wasn't quite true. A stack of playing cards lay atop the desk, facedown. Thinking she might amuse herself with a game of solitaire, Hotaru got up and turned over the first card of the deck.

A horned man and woman, both naked, stared up at her from the flipside. They were chained to a stubby pillar of some kind and wore expressions of sorrow. Atop the pillar sat a winged, stern-faced creature sporting ram's horns and an inverted pentagram burned onto its forehead. Both hands were cast upward in gestures of supremacy. Near the top of the card was the Roman numeral XV and near the bottom, the word "THE DEVIL".

She replaced it with a shudder.

Something else caught her eye then: a small box next to the card deck. It was mahogany and inlaid with swirling gold designs that after a few seconds of staring, took on the shape of a great serpent. Two glittering ruby studs had been placed near its head, serving as eyes. A simple hook and clasp functioned as the lock.

Hotaru went to pick it up when lightning flashed suddenly, punctuating the room with harsh white light. Thunder rolled.

Claustrophobia overcame her then, quick and without warning. She felt trapped. Imprisoned. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be home, to be receiving a scolding form Haruka. What was she doing here? How did she end up-

Something thudded out in the hall.

Frowning, Hotaru went over to the room's entrance and peeked out into the corridor. She held her breath. Had she imagined the noise, or…. No. She heard it again – a faint thumping sound. Could it have been Satoshi? Had he fallen in the bathroom? No, that didn't fit. He'd gone in the opposite direction, and this noise was coming from behind one of the closed doors. She listened again and heard it anew after about ten seconds of waiting. It sounded more rapid this time, a definite thud followed by a scuffling sound.

She moved out into the hall. The noises were coming from the room at the end. She pressed her ear to the closed door and listened quietly. Voices. Voices, but not speech. More of a mumbling sound. Like a moan or something.

What in the world? What was on the other side of that door? Hotaru wondered if she should investigate. What if some burglars had broken in while they'd been out? Maybe they'd injured themselves breaking through a window or something. That would account for the moaning. If that were the case, common sense indicated that she should take a peek inside. But it was Satoshi's house, after all, and sneaking around wasn't very polite. Then again, she _was_ his girlfriend and a certain level of noisiness came with the job description.

She brought one hand down upon the door handle, turned it ever so slightly, and-

"It's the last room on the left."

Hotaru screamed and whirled around. Satoshi was standing in the hallway, looking at her. He had the crystal ball in his hands.

"You scared me to death!" She turned and pointed to the door behind her. "I heard some weird noises coming from here and I just thought…" She trailed off.

"I don't hear anything."

Hotaru listened. Sure enough, the odd noises had abated.

Satoshi took hold of her and guided her into his room. He sat her down gently on the bed and placed his crystal ball beside the cards and serpent-box. "Thanks again for my gift. I really like it."

Hotaru watched as he glided across the room and sat down beside her, causing the rusty springs of the bed to squeal. "I'm gl-" her voice cracked. "I'm glad."

"It suits me, wouldn't you say?" He lifted one leg up brought it inward.

"Yep. So, uh… when you were giving those people their fortunes, were you h-honest, or…."

He shrugged. "I was honest, but left a few things out. Life's full of ups _and_ downs. It's not lying if you choose to omit certain things."

"Hmm." She swallowed. It sounded loud in the stillness of the room. "So do you think … could you give me my fortune?"

It was an off-comment, meant to break the uneasy quiet more than anything else, but Satoshi smiled. "Sure. Give me your hand, palm up."

She did, and he moved his other leg up and brought it up against the other. "Okay, let's see what we have here." He took her hand in his. They were cold. "I see a long life, that's always good. I see kindness in you, but…. but you're sad. You're sad so much of the time. You had a good friend, someone you loved being around, but you've lost that person. And ever since then, you feel lost, like you don't belong anywhere." He looked up suddenly. "I hope you see her again."

"Thank you," Hotaru mumbled. She would see her again, she was sure of this, but it wouldn't be the same _version_ she'd known. "But I wanted my future told. That's all past stuff."

"Right. I'm getting to that." He took in a deep breath and ran one finger down the middle of her palm. She shivered at the touch. "A long life, like a said. And I also see that you'll overcome your sadness. You _will_ find happiness. You'll find somebody to devote your whole life to. This will occur very soon. And from that point onward, you'll be at peace."

It all sounded nice enough, and Hotaru wanted to believe it, but was he just giving her the niceties? Was he leaving the bad things out because he thought it wouldn't be a lie if he didn't tell them? It didn't matter either way. What mattered was the fact that they were going to be together forever. The palm-reading session proved as much.

She was about to tell him this when he reached over and took her in his arms. He brought his face to hers and brushed his lips across her cheeks. Then they met hers and they kissed. Strange how such an act of compassion never grows old – at least it didn't for her. They must've kissed a thousand times, but each time felt like the first – full of love, and danger, and a healthy bit of nervousness. All so familiar and yet different.

But there was an added something this time.

Satoshi's right hand, which had been resting upon her waist, dipped down and went strolling down one leg. Down, then up. Up, then down. The other hand retreated around her back and brushed against her dress' zipper. It took hold of it and pulled it down ever so slightly. _Ziiiiiiip_. It did this while the other disappeared up beneath the hemline of her dress. She could feel Satoshi's hot breath on her now. Is breathing rate had increased rapidly. And then came the tongue…

All the little red warning flags went up and she pushed him off her before her brain could even give the command. It was a reflex action. Satoshi went thudding against the white wall behind and there was a sickening _whomp_ as his head collided with the plaster.

"Oh!" She put a hand to her mouth in surprise. "I am so sorry!"

"It's okay." He rubbed his head, grimacing a little, and then, incredibly, bent forward for some more.

This time, Hotaru put up a hand to stop him. "Um. C-can we just relax for a second?"

He didn't seem to have heard. He rolled forward, his mouth open-

"Hey! Let's just – let's hold on a minute!"

He halted. "What's the matter?" He seemed irritated.

"I don't …. I'm not ready."

"Don't worry. I'm ready enough for both of us." He placed a cold hand on her bare arm. "It'll be fine. I'll be gentle. I promise."

"It's not you, okay?" Hotaru abruptly sat up and Satoshi dove down into the sheets where she'd been sitting a second before. "I don't think I'm ready. I _know_ I'm not, actually."

Satoshi's features melted into a mask of disappointment. He sighed and punched the bed sheets. "I won't force you. I just …. I thought we'd reached that special point."

Fantastic. Now she'd went and _offended_ him! The one and only guy that showed her the slightest bit of attention and now she went and did _this_! She sighed. He looked so sad and dejected, sitting there amid the crumpled linens of the bed. His shoulders were stooped, his head bent in dismay. Still, she knew she couldn't go through with it. She loved him (everyone was way past _that_ point), but she didn't feel right going the extra mile. Sex for Hotaru was the ultimate expression of love, and she wanted Satoshi to be her first, but …. but she hardly knew him. She realized this suddenly. He knew about her and her hopes and dreams, but she really didn't know anything about him. Maybe after a few more dates, a little more getting-to-know-you sessions and then she'd think about moving their relationship to a physical level.

"I just wanted it to be special." It sounded dumb even as she was saying it.

"It would've been." Satoshi sighed. "Just give me a minute before I stand back up, okay?"

"Really. I'm sor-"

A hand was put up to cut off the apology.

Well there went the whole finding-peace-with-another prediction. They were probably going to break up now. That would figure. Frigid little tease Hotaru. Wouldn't play nice. There were other girls that would, though. Satoshi would find them.

She went to show herself out, when he came up behind her and kissed her neck. "I don't want to pressure you. It _would've_ been nice, but-"

Guilt skewered its way through her heart. "Yeah. I know. I …I'll be ready soon."

He shrugged. "Oh. Before I forget. I have another present for you." He turned his back to her and rummaged through the top drawer of the bureau.

Oh merciful hope! A gift! That meant he wasn't totally furious with her after all! "I don't need anything else," she said, her heart fluttering.

He returned and asked her to hold out her hands. She did and he pressed two cold _somethings_ into them. "Can I look?"

"Sure," he said.

She looked down.

Earrings. A stunning pair of earrings. They were long and somewhat heavy. The top halves appeared to be made of gold and were intricately designed with swirls and loops that formed something of a Fleur de lis. Elongated black jewels dangled from the bottom of the design. Hotaru didn't recognize the gems, but suspected they were crystals of some kind.

"They're beautiful." She unhooked her current fake diamond ones and replaced them quickly with the others. "I'll wear them always. Where did you get them?"

"Hmph! I didn't get them anywhere. I made them."

"Then they're all the more precious to me."

Satoshi smiled. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

And then they exited his apartment and Hotaru followed him from behind, content with the fact that everything was all right again.

…

Michiru sat in bed, amid a cluster of pillows, and listened to the noises from down below. Muffled voices, male and female, talking and giggling. Then footsteps walking up the stairs. They paused for a bit outside her door and then went on down the hall. Then they were back. They padded down the stairway and faded away.

Hotaru and her boyfriend. There'd been rumors flying around the house that she had one. _Good for her_, Michiru thought. _Nobody deserves it more._

She waited a good ten minutes after hearing the squeal of exiting tires before daring to stir. She arose from bed with a rustle of sheets and stood. The room was empty. Of course it was. Haruka had left – gone to some motor cross rally or something. Not that it mattered anyway, seeing as to how for the past few days, she hadn't stepped foot inside her room.

_Haruka. You forced my hand. _

The room that had previously been shared by both her and Michiru was split perfectly between both their interests. Michiru's cello rested over in one corner alongside Haruka's model car collection. Various framed photos hung on the walls, displaying a timeline of their past: Michiru at her first recital, dressed in a revealing white gown, a yellow rose in full bloom tacked to her chest, instrument in hand – Haruka propped up against her prized Ferrari with a fencing sword, smiling a come-hither smile to the camera. One of them together –

She moved closer to inspect this one. It showcased them both, dressed in black and white attire, staring straight ahead. Michiru's hair hung loose and wavy around her shoulders, giving her the appearance of some ancient sea goddess. Haruka stood beside her in the photograph, her head titled slightly to the right. The present-day Michiru stared down at the moment frozen in time and had to smile. Haruka could be such a stunning-looking woman when she wanted to be. This picture proved as much.

Where had it been taken? When? Michiru couldn't remember.

She supposed it really didn't matter.

Now that the house was still again, she found the security to move out into the hallway. She was on a mission. A mission to find out the truth – however painful that might be.

That girl's face flashed through her mind again for what had to have been the hundredth time in the span of thirty minutes. Her girlish giggles sounded through time. The way she'd laughed when Haruka had taken her for a ride, they way they'd smiled at each other, they way they'd _touched_. It'd been days since the incident outside the recording studio, but it felt like just yesterday to Michiru. The sense of betrayal hadn't dissipated in the least.

Affair. That's the word that kept springing to mind when she pictured the two of them laughing on the street – Haruka and that ditzy blonde. Or had she been a redhead? Hmm. She couldn't exactly remember, but she could remember everything else _very_ clearly. Haruka had given the girl a ride. As to _where_, she didn't know. Didn't want to know. Probably to some cheap hotel near the airport for a little tryst party.

"Stop it!" She said this aloud. This wasn't like her. Why was she getting so upset over a harmless flirtation? That's what had attracted her to Haruka in the first place – the fact that while she wasn't a bad girl, she was maybe just the littlest bit _naughty. _And that had been fine back then, but now that she was a little older, that kind of appeal had long since lost its luster for her.

She knew she shouldn't be so upset, but she _was_. She was and she felt the need to do something. She had to find out the truth. How long had the affair (not the right word, but close enough) been going on? Were there other girls? She felt sure there were, but didn't have the first clue as to how to go about proving it. And that's what the mission was all about. Proof.

Aha! The cell phone records! Yes. If she could somehow get hold of Haruka's cell phone, she'd be able to find out all the numbers she'd called and all the incoming calls she'd received and then, with a simple cross-reference to the phonebook-

Reality sunk in. She couldn't do that. It wasn't against her moral code or anything; she just didn't have the technical expertise required to go through with such an operation. ….No, but Ami did. Yes! She would just call Ami and ask her to come over and she'd give _her_ the phone and she could-

That wouldn't work either. Michiru sighed and was about to give up and return to bed when – _ding, ding, ding!_ – the light bulb went off.

The dirty clothes hamper!

She ran in that direction. She flung the door open to the bathroom and got down on her hands and knees and began pawing through the high mound of soiled clothing. What a sight it was. World-famous violinist and painter extraordinaire Michiru Kaioh, thigh-deep in yesterday's panties.

But the degradation and humiliation proved to be worth it when she happened upon a pair of old jeans that Haruka had worn just the other day. They had been tossed in the back and Michiru seized them and began to rifle through their pockets.

_I know you're hiding something from me!_ She thought, as she tore through the pants in a wild, animalistic rage. _I'm gonna find out! Yessir! Your secret won't stay hidden for long!_

Her fingers brushed up against something. A small card of some kind. _AHA! Jackpot!! _A telephone number would no doubt be inscribed upon it somewhere and then Michiru would call that number and scream that she knew all about them, her and Haruka, and that she was going to make them sorry!!

She ripped the card from the pants' pocket and brought it up to her face. A smiling wiener holding a bottle of ketchup greeted her. A squirted line of it formed the catchy slogan: "Stuff Your Face at Fudo's Footlongs! All You Can Eat!! 3-68-59 Ikebukuro, Toshima".

A business card. A stupid no-good business-

"What are you doing?"

Michiru spun around, dropping the happy wiener card to the floor. Setsuna had materialized in the doorway.

"Setsuna!" Michiru hurried to shove the mess of clothing back inside the hamper. "Wh-what are you doing home so soon? I thought this was your long night at the observatory."

"We got out early." She said nothing else. Her eyes remained unblinking.

"Oh. I see." Michiru arose from the floor and flung a loose strand of hair over one shoulder. "Well, I'm off to bed."

Setsuna blocked her path. "What is going on with you? You seem…" She cast a glance back into the bathroom. "Distracted."

"I'm fine, alright? Right now I'm tired."

The open door to her room loomed just ahead, a sweet sanctuary from relentless questioning.

"Are you and Haruka fighting?"

"No, no, no. Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?' She entered into the room and began to close the door on Setsuna. "Goodnight."

She caught it. "Well, I think something _must_ be troubling you. And I think whatever it is has to do with Haruka. Why else has she been sleeping in the guest bedroom for the past few nights?"

Michiru sighed. She was running out of patience. "I'm sure I don't know. Maybe I snore, okay? Now goodnight."

This time Setsuna made no move to interfere with the door's closing and it slammed shut in her face. Michiru moved across the room and hopped back into bed. Sleep. That's what she needed. She closed her eyes and thought of sleep. But each time her eyes closed, she saw Haruka. And each time she saw Haruka, she saw that girl. They laughed. They touched. They drove off into the sunset together.

That night, Michiru cried herself to sleep.

…

"No, she's been sleeping the entire day. Hasn't even gotten up to eat anything."

Mamoru exhaled loudly on the other end of the line. "But other than that, she's okay?"

"Other than that, yeah." Makoto stole one last glance at Usagi's sleeping form before turning out the lights to her room and closing the door. She stepped out into the living room and switched the phone to another hand.

"Good. I feel kind of guilty."

_You should. _Lightning flashed outside. Makoto ran a hand through her hair and wondered why Mamoru had even bothered to call. What kind of boyfriend was he, anyway? He knew Usagi's brother was the Wiseman and yet he just dropped her off in the enemy's lair without so much as a hind look? What a man. What a guy.

"I'm glad you were in the neighborhood," he said.

"I'm glad _one_ of us was." She didn't make any attempt to conceal the annoyance in her voice.

Mamoru coughed. "I mean, I _was_, but…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't trust Usako to stay by herself, so I camped outside her house the entire night. Just in case anything happened. I didn't want to tell her, since she made such a big deal about standing on her own two feet and all, but-"

"Wait a sec." Makoto wedged the phone into the crook of her shoulder and opened up the sliding door to the balcony. She took an inventory of the cloudy night skies and wondered if there'd be any rain. She hoped so. Her plants could use it. "So you're telling me you _were_ camped outside her house? I didn't see you."

"I know. I had to take a bathroom break somewhere around two in the morning." He sounded slightly embarrassed. "I was gone no more than five minutes and when I came back… Well, Luna told me what happened. She said you took her to your place."

"Yeah. I called her parents so it's not like I kidnapped her or anything, but…" It was cold out on the balcony, so Makoto moved back inside. "So Shingo must've known you were out there. He must've known and chosen to attack while you were away."

"I suppose." Mamoru paused and then added, "So you really think he's the Wiseman?"

Makoto rolled her eyes. Well, duh! She'd been there. She'd seen him running behind Usagi, waving that knife in the air. He'd meant to kill her. And would've succeeded had the Sailor Soldiers not intervened. It had been him. Shingo. Him running after his sister with a knife. What more proof was needed? "It's him."

"But I just can't believe they wouldn't have mentioned it when we went to the 30th Century. I mean, the Wiseman being the Queen's brother – you'd think that would be high-level priority information."

"I don't know. Minako said he asked Setsuna more or less the same thing and she said that revealing the Wiseman's identity would upset the space-time continuum. Maybe that's what they were thinking." Honestly, though, she couldn't care less. Shingo was the Wiseman. End of story. The sooner people could accept it, the sooner a resolution to the problem could be made.

"Just look after her," Mamoru said. "Don't tell her I told you this, but she can't transform for some reason."

Ah. She figured as much. Neither could Minako or Ami. Maybe there was a bug going around. Still, there were six other Sailors on standby – more than enough to handle any problem that might present itself.

She promised she wouldn't tell and the two of them said their goodbyes. Makoto replaced the cordless into its holder and then moved stealthily back to the end bedroom. She cracked the door open an inch. Usagi was still there, curled up like a little kitten on top of the sheets. Makoto wondered what she was dreaming of. Her brother? Was she dreaming of the battle that would eventually take place between them?

What a trooper that little girl was. What inner strength she possessed. Who else would choose to sacrifice themselves for their would-be killer? Makoto saw the whole scene played out in her mind: her thunder rolling towards Shingo, right on course, then Usagi jumping up, blocking its path – the lightning striking her, and then her thinking "She's dead. She's dead and I've killed her" and then the relief of finding a pulse.

Well, she'd make it up to her. Oh, you better believe it. Makoto closed the door on Usagi and stood in the dark hallway for several minutes. Come tomorrow, she was going to have a little chat with Shingo Tsukino.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The Juuban High End of Year Festival finally closed its doors sometime around one o'clock in the morning, but it took volunteers another two hours to pick up all the discarded napkins, coke bottles, and general junk that littered the courtyard. Even though the festival had been organized with seniors in mind, enough underclassmen and people off the streets had attended to make it, in the words of Principle Tanaka, "a rousing success." This was a little surprising, giving the not-so-hot economy and the plummeting value of the yen.

But come they did. The seniors got in for free and everyone else readily shelled out the 539-yen entrance fee. Nobody complained about the high price of snacks. The charge to park went largely unnoticed. For once, those things ceased to matter. The students were happy to pay any monetary amount just as long as it meant they could mingle with old friends one last time. They understood that the remainder of their high school lives came down to this night, graduation practice a few days later, graduation itself, and then – wham. It would be over. In the space of a few days, it would be over. College would come next, and when _that_ ended, any semblance of fun and happiness would vanish from their lives as they merged with the dark-suited, white-collared Japanese business world.

So everyone came.

Well, almost everyone.

Naru Osaka came and spent the first hour after her arrival looking for Usagi. She wondered around aimlessly, asking people if they'd seen her, to which the response was always: "Nope. Haven't seen her." After looking for an hour and thirty minutes and getting nowhere, she was about to give up when brilliance struck. Smiling, she made her way to the section of the courtyard set aside for fairground food like hotdogs and cotton candy, only to find no Usagi. She did find Umino, however, and Usagi was quickly forgotten about as the two of them explored the exciting sights of the carnival together. Everything was going along just smashing until Umino, after one too many dips on the caterpillar coaster, announced his undying love to her in front of a dozen people. She had smiled uneasily and then excused herself, claiming a stomachache before rushing away and disappearing into the crowd. She spent the rest of the evening locked inside the ladies' room.

The gardening club got off to a rough start with the absence of their club president. Frantic voices called out, "Where's Makoto? Has anyone seen Makoto?" And then, when it seemed as though everything was going to fall apart, a temporary president was elected at the last second and everything was made right again.

The girls' volleyball team, stationed at their own booth, was one girl short themselves. Their team captain, Minako Aino, had disappeared. They had to clarify that to everyone who visited the tent, and eventually, they got so tired of having to continually explain the situation that they put up a sign that read: "_The Captain Isn't Here. We Don't Know Where She Is_."

Usagi wasn't there because she was recuperating from the previous night's traumatic events and the subsequent knowledge that had come along with that.

Makoto was looking after Usagi.

Minako was off in some studio taping an episode of _Mega Heartache Homeroom Hearts._

Nobody asked about Ami Mizuno.

It wasn't that she didn't have any friends. She did. It just so happened that those in her close circle of friendship were also absent from the festivities. And it wasn't that she wasn't popular. She was. In a way. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in Juuban High who hadn't heard the name "Ami Mizuno" at some point during their school experience. Everyone knew the name. Everyone had heard the rumors of how this girl aced every test and exam and how she supposedly possessed a freaky-big IQ. Ami Mizuno. The mythical girl genius. Some students even thought of her that way - as a myth, a story, a made up character that their teachers would sometimes compare them to. No more real than the tooth fairy.

But real she was. And while her classmates were out dancing and laughing and kissing the night away, she remained at home, hunched down in front of her computer – all alone. Part of her wanted to be there with them, but a greater part knew what had to be done. Certain things took precedence over personal pleasure. That was one of the things that separated her from the average high school student. She could differentiate between things she wanted to do and things that _had_ to be done whether she wanted to do them or not. And then, more importantly, she could act on that knowledge and choose the option that would benefit the greater good.

So that's why she did not attend the festival, even though it would've meant the world to her. That's why she was sitting in front of the computer now, with the same question running through her brain again and again.

_Why can't I transform?_

Ami sat in her padded leather chair on wheels and stared stupidly at the white screen before her. The blank white screen. Devoid of thought or solutions. That irritated her, the fact that she'd been sitting here for …. how long? She turned around to look at the black forest cuckoo clock hanging over the fireplace. It gave the time out as 8:37 pm. She'd been sitting in the same spot for the past 16 minutes and an answer to the question of "Why can't I transform" had not presented itself.

How very frustrating. She sighed and then, just to do something, she began to type.

A + B C

There. The equation of causation. It stood out near the top of the page in big black font, perfectly centered. Ami leaned forward and took her chin in between her index finger and thumb. Okay, so if "A" represented her herself and "B" stood for the unknown variable that had caused her to loose the ability to transform, and "C" illustrated the point in time where she had called out "Mercury Crystal Power, Make-Up" with no result, then it would stand to reason that she had come into contact with something and then, as a consequence of the contact with variable B, C resulted, which meant that she could no longer transform.

That made sense. Didn't it?

Yes. Of course it did. A + B C. Ami firmly believed that nothing happened by chance. Nothing was random. Everything, no matter how trivial or unimportant it seemed, was the result of a buildup of certain occurrences. Even the most obscure, seemingly unrelated events could combine together to influence a probability. Luck? Coincidence? Random happenings? Those things did not exist. They were just words people made up to explain away phenomena whose occurrences of causation were too obscure to be detected. Everything had a reason for happening. There was an answer for everything. That answer might be hidden away somewhere, but it was there, waiting to be found and laughing at the people too wrapped up in the notion of luck and coincidence to notice it.

This theory could be applied to Ami's transformation predicament. Something had happened to her. Someone had done something to her. Even if she were the type of person to believe in coincidence, she couldn't refute the fact that Minako was having the exact same problem at the exact same time. And what were the chances of that? Minako, by her own admission, had met secretly with the Wiseman and she believed it was the result of that meeting that led to her inability to morph. But where did that leave Ami? She hadn't come into contact with him. She'd been able to transform that night at the Tokyo Tower when the prediction had come in prophesizing of a deadly shootout atop the structure. And that had been the last appearance of Sailor Mercury. What had changed between now and then?

She tried to think. The cursor imbedded in the computer screen blinked impatiently. It mocked her and her impotence. "You're _Ami Mizuno, the girl genius_?" It seemed to scream. "_Puh-lease. If you were really as smart as they say, you would've figured this thing out ages ago! What is your IQ, anyway? Judging by the progress of things, I'd figure it to be somewhere around the 10 mark. But hey, be grateful that you broke double digits! You stupid, idiotic, ineffectual-"_

With a grunt of annoyance, Ami took hold of the mouse and minimized the document.

What was her problem? She should've been able to solve this as soon as the dilemma occurred. Why? Oh, why?

Ami sighed and reached for the turkey sandwich she'd prepared. She took it from its plate to the right of the computer and bit into it. The cool mayonnaise and the slick turkey meat formed a happy union. It was heaven in her mouth. Ami liked sandwiches. They were her favorite food. Small as they were, they could easily be eaten while reading or writing. The perfect study cuisine! She made them often.

Now then. If Minako had lost her powers as the result of meeting with the Wiseman, logic would dictate that Ami, too, had met with him at some point. That she had –

Something clicked into place and she tossed the half-eaten sandwich back onto its plate in one fast motion. Her fingers snapped into place over the keyboard, ready to strike should the idea in her head come to fruition. Something was there. Right on the brink! The answer! Ami smiled, confident that the answer was now within her grasp. She waited and bid it come.

But it didn't. Like a forgotten word dangling on the tip of a tongue, it lingered there, but did not drop into place. Ami gritted her teeth and leaned back in her chair. Now _that_ was strange. For a moment there, she'd had the answer right in sight. But then, at the last second, it darted away. Almost like it'd been pushed away. Pushed away by some outside force. Could that be? Could someone be manipulating her thoughts? Could someone be watching her via some telepathic link?

Ami swallowed. The saliva went down thick and heavy. Come to think of it, she did have a headache. A weird headache, as a matter of fact. It felt as if her brain was full of worms. She could feel them wriggling around in there. They darted in between thoughts and borrowed deep into the subconscious.

Ami shivered. She wouldn't think about that now. She had confidence that she would eventually get to the bottom of this mystery. She was one smart cookie. The various college acceptance letters next to the computer proved as much.

They were pilled mountain-high, each letter still contained within its original envelope. The postage represented a dozen different countries and twice as many universities - with prestigious names such as Harvard, Princeton, Oxford, MIT, Duke, Johns Hopkins, the University of Paris, stamped proudly in the center of each. All were letters of acceptance. They all began the same, with variations on the same theme: "We are pleased to inform you…" "Congratulations!" or "Welcome to (insert school name here)! We hope to see you soon!" She had applied to over 30 schools and had received favorable replies from each.

Each of them had jumped at the chance to have wunderkind Ami Mizuno among their ranks, and Ami herself was honored at the enthusiastic response. The prospect of college life trilled her to no end. Moving far away to complete her education didn't bother her in the least. Suppose she did decide to study abroad. Language wouldn't be a problem. In addition to English, Ami had mastered the French, Spanish, Russian, German, Hindi, and Chinese dialects and spoke each with the ease and fluidity of a native – all without any hint of an Asian accent. Currently, she was working on learning Xhosa, a Bantu language spoken in southern Africa, famous for its repetitive clicking sounds.

So, yes. She had no qualms about travel – was quite up to it, in fact.

But in the end, she'd elected on staying home and studying at Tokyo U. Not because it was her first choice or because she had any particular desire at all to go there. No. It was just close by. In the city. Which meant she wouldn't have to travel away. She couldn't leave the city, you see. Hadn't she sworn a vow to protect Usagi, long ago when the moon was alive and they were members of the court of the Silver Millennium? Hadn't she promised her Princess that she would never leave her side, that she would always protect her from any danger that might threaten the peace? Yes. She'd sworn. Forever and always. Harvard or anyplace like that was out of the question since it would mean leaving Usagi behind and would also bring with it the breaking of that ancient promise.

Sometimes it bothered her. Sometimes she felt trapped by her role as a Sailor Solider (but if confronted with this, she would've denied it 'til she turned blue in the face). A secret part of her resented Usagi and blamed her for the stalled life she seemed to have. She couldn't leave Tokyo for fear of something happening to Usagi in her absence. She couldn't do anything without first thinking about how it was going to affect the Sailor Team. Why was she even studying to become a doctor when her destiny was a future as Sailor Mercury? What was the point, really?

"Still up? I'd thought you'd be asleep by now."

Ami turned around, a little alarmed that she hadn't heard the apartment door open, and smiled at her mother, who had just entered into the living room.

Looking at her, the average person on the street, if asked to try and guess Mrs. Mizuno's profession, would undoubtedly take one look at her stylishly short raven hair, her trim figure, her stately walk, and would respond with "model". And while the lithe Saeko _did_ look much younger than her 48 years, she would've laughed out loud at that assumption. She would've laughed and smiled and politely corrected them by saying that she wasn't a model, but rather the chief neurosurgeon at Tokyo University Medical Center.

"What are you working on so late?" Mrs. Mizuno asked as she dropped her purse onto a nearby chair. She strolled majestically across the room and came up behind Ami, putting a cool hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing important," she responded. Ami turned her head up toward her mother and took in every detail of the woman. Her crisp white blouse tucked neatly into tan slacks, the gold ovals that dangled from each earlobe, the floral-print scarf wrapped deftly around her thin neck – such a vision of power and authority. Ami admired her totally. She didn't just want to be like her, she literally wanted to _be_ her. Saeko Mizuno, the beautiful and successful doctor. An unreachable idol.

Now she was stretching past Ami on her left side, reaching for something. The acceptance letters. She took the impressive stack in her hands and began to riffle through them. "Ah," she said, selecting one envelope in particular from the bunch. "This brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Ami looked at the name embossed upon the front of the sleeve and nodded. Cambridge. Yes, it brought back memories. Memories from long ago.

At 18 years old, there was no denying the fact that Ami was exceptionally smart for her age. Ever since she had entered Juuban High, she'd consistently held the top rank in terms of grades and GPA. But what few people knew, what _none_ of them knew, really, was that while Ami was a genius-level teenager, she'd been an equally brilliant infant. In fact, the word "brilliant" wouldn't have done her justice back then. But what else would you call it when a child learns to walk at 4 months, having bypassed the crawling stage completely? What other word besides "brilliant" could've be attached to someone who, by age 5, could read at an 18-year-old's level? Ami Mizuno did all of this and more. By age 6, she was fully capable of carrying on entire intelligent-sounding conversations with adults. After speaking with her over the phone, you would've sworn you had been talking to a professional adult, had it not been for her squeaky child's voice.

Yes, she had been an exceptionally smart child. That much was plain to see. And it wasn't long before her parents took notice. One day, sometime around early spring, they had presented Ami with an IQ test. Not just any IQ test, either, but a specialized extended version with extra questions and an essay portion. She had taken it (finishing the 130 question beast in under 30 minutes) and after that, Mom and Dad had mailed it off someplace. Someplace special. All just for funzies, you understand. They held no real expectations of what the test would show one way or another. They had done it for a lark. Nothing more.

But what came in the mail three weeks later wiped the smiles off their faces for good.

A tested IQ of 364.

At first, they had laughed. A mistake. Had to have been. Sure little Ami was smart, but a 6 year old with an IQ like that? There had to have been a miscalculation somewhere. But the more they thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. It made so much sense, in fact, that one night Mrs. Mizuno had told Ami that all three of them were going away soon on a special trip. When asked where to, she had responded "Cambridge". Apparently, that had been where the IQ test had been sent. The bigwigs there had been so impressed at Ami's score that they had mailed a letter back to the Mizuno household requesting an audience with the little girl and three airplane tickets to England to make that meeting possible.

Ami remembered her time at Cambridge with a mixture of fear and wonderment. She remembered stepping off the plane and having a school representative drive them to the university and then feeling such a rush of excitement when she finally saw the gothic towers of the college peeking through the trees. But she also remembered the terror she felt once the pleasantries had been taken care of and the tests had begun. Such awful tests. Men in white lab coats had poked and prodded her all over, in every imaginable crevice trying to figure out what made her so smart.

In the end, however, the tests revealed nothing abnormal. Amazed at the sight of this little girl quoting Shakespeare and solving complex equations, the university head met with Ami some time later and had offered her a full scholarship right then and there. They wanted her. They would be so glad to have her. Ami remembered how her mother had broken down into tears of joy and thanks, and how her father just stood there like a zombie. A week in England hadn't been his cup of tea. He didn't speak any English, he didn't like the weather, and he claimed that every day spent away from Japan drained him of his creative energies.

It had been a great honor, being offered that full scholarship, but Ami had refused. Suppose she had accepted and entered into the university at 6 and then graduated medical school at 10? Her entire life would have peeked before puberty. What else would be left for her to achieve or accomplish? She would've missed out on so many things. Normal things that normal kids did. She didn't want to be seen as a freak (and she knew that's how she would've been perceived at Cambridge – the weird baby-genius). Instead, she wanted to experience a normal childhood. A normal teenage life.

Her mother had flipped when she heard that. Her father … well, she couldn't remember what his reaction had been. Probably indifference. But Mrs. Mizuno had taken the offensive. "You have this gift, Ami! An amazing, incredible gift. And you want to waste it by going to a public school? Why?! You're going to regret this. I know you will. So think about this. Take time to make up your mind. Don't rush to a hasty decision. Think about it."

But she had already made up her mind. Her decision was final. She stood her ground. Her mother had hemmed and hawed a bit more, but Ami would not budge. Her mother had prophesied that she would never be content at a public school. But now, 12 years later, she was glad to report that she had never once regretted that decision. It was a good feeling, having friends your own age, and to just be able to relax and become one of the girls. Sometimes it was nice to forget you were a genius. Most everyone else at Juuban High thought she _was_ one, however, and they had attributed her with an intelligent quotient of 300. And while that was certainly high, it was nowhere near her true score. Ami never corrected this mistake. She would only smile and shrug and change the topic of conversation quickly.

"Have you made a decision yet?" Mrs. Mizuno asked, bringing everyone and everything back to the present.

"Not yet." A lie, of course. She'd always known that Tokyo University would be the one she'd end up going to. She had only filled out those other applications as a test – a test to see how good she really was. But she couldn't tell her mother that. Not that Tokyo U. wasn't a good school in its own right. Many considered it the best school in Japan – in all of Asia, in fact! The name just didn't carry the same brand of mystique as, say, Princeton or Harvard. Or Cambridge.

Mrs. Mizuno replaced the stack of letters on the desk and took hold of Ami's shoulders with both hands. "Well, whatever you choose, I'm proud of you. So very proud." Then she bent forward and kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek.

That sudden act of affection sent chills of fear tricking down Ami's back. Her mother seldom ever displayed her emotions so openly. She had no doubt that her mother loved her; it just wasn't a touchy-feely kind of love. Come to think of it, it was more like a kind of respect than anything else.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Mrs. Mizuno said. "Don't stay up too late."

"No, I won't. Goodnight, Mom."

With a nod and a smile, Mrs. Mizuno turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Ami alone in the dark living room. The computer screen before her had lapsed into screen-saver mode and she stared at the swirling pinprick of light as it darted this way and that – totally captivated by the changing colors.

Enough. A click of the mouse and the screen went white again, blank except for five little characters: A+BC. The causation formula. Ami stared at it until she thought she would go crazy. Why couldn't she figure this thing out? What had happened to her? Why couldn't she transform? What? How? ….

…

The ringing of the telephone woke her. She jumped, startled out of a sleep she hadn't even known she'd been in, and looked around. The room was still dark (no surprise there, seeing as to how the drapes were shut) as was the computer screen. The screen-saver had apparently lost its patience and had plunged the monitor into blankness. Ami punched a few keys at random, summoning the thing to life again. Before getting up to answer the phone, she noted the time to be 8:50. So she'd only napped for ten minutes or so. No big deal.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she reached for the cordless. "Hello?"

"I'm tired of this."

The voice on the other end spoke those four words harshly and for a moment, Ami hadn't the slightest idea who she was speaking to. Then it came to her. "Mako-chan?"

"I'm tired of just sitting here and waiting for something to happen. It's time to get proactive, wouldn't you say?"

Ami tucked the phone into the crook of her shoulder and glanced down the hall in the direction of her mother's room. She hoped the phone hadn't woken her. With her high-stress level job at the hospital, she really needed all the rest she could afford. "What are you talking about, Mako-chan?"

"I'm going to find Shingo and get him to talk to us." Came the simple reply.

"Wait a second. I don't think you're behaving rationally." Ami could plainly detect a kind of bubbling half-suppressed rage in her friend's voice and it frightened her. "We shouldn't rush into things. Let's take things slow and-"

"We've already wasted enough time!" Shouted Makoto from the other end. "Look, I really think that for every second we waste waiting for something to happen, the bad guy – Shingo – is getting stronger. We have to act. Now. And I want you to go with me."

Sighing, Ami put a cool hand to her forehead. "What makes you think he'll cooperate? What makes you think he'll talk?"

Makoto laughed, completely without humor. "He'll see things our way when I shove my leg halfway up his butt. Oh, he'll talk. It won't be open for debate."

"And Usagi-"

"I'll have Minako watch her while I'm gone. Come on, what do you say? I need you there to keep me in check."

She had a point. Ami looked back at the computer and her useless equation. Maybe confronting Shingo wouldn't be such a bad choice of direction after all. Maybe they could force the secrets from him. _But it's not the secrets we need_, she reminded herself. _It's the answers to those secrets. _"All right," she said. "Count me in. I'll call you in the morning."

Makoto chuckled. "You must've stayed up all night studying again. It _is_ the morning."

Ah, yes. Now Ami could see the bright light of day illuminating the underside of the curtains. Eight-fifty _a.m. _She'd been asleep for twelve hours. How embarrassing.

"Meet me in front of the arcade," Makoto said, and hung up.

Ami deposited the phone back in the re-charging cradle. A confrontation with Shingo. A confrontation with the Wiseman. Could it really be that he, Usagi's own brother, was their enemy? All the evidence pointed in that direction – Rei and Satoshi's identical psychic vision, the attack on Usagi and the subsequent firsthand experience of seeing him running after her with a knife …. A + B C. But Ami still couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. True, the evidence was undeniable, but it had come so fast, so sudden, so unexpected.

Eh. Everything would reveal itself in due time. Ami moved over to the computer and switched it off. It powered down with a short burping noise. She exited the living room and began the short journey down the hall toward her mother's room. Hopefully, she was still asleep.

The door to Mrs. Mizuno's room was open and Ami peeked in. No Saeko. Unwarranted panic began to rise up within Ami's chest. She took one giant step inside the bedroom, suddenly convinced that her mother had been kidnapped, and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place. But there _was_ a little something added: a note had been placed between the two pillows of the bed. Ami snatched it up and began to read.

_Called in to the hospital. Emergency surgery. Again. Was going to wake you, but you were asleep. Decided to let you rest. Hopefully I'll come home soon so we can do something later. I love you – Mom. _

The last shivers of panic dissipated. Of course. She'd just been called in to work. Happened all the time. Why had she thought she'd been kidnapped? _All this talk about Shingo and the Wiseman. It's making me crazy_, Ami thought to herself. She folded the note thrice and threw it into a nearby wastebasket. _I'll be glad when this business is over_.

Ten minutes later, after a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, she was out on the streets, heading for the arcade. It took about fifteen minutes to walk it by foot, and many things became apparent during this interval. The main thing being how bad the city's situation had gotten. Trash littered the streets. One building out of every six had been abandoned. And supposing this statistic held true for the entire city, that meant 16 of Tokyo's buildings were vacant and rotting away.

Dirty animals ran along the sidewalk, amongst the pedestrians, looking for a meal. At one point during the journey, a rat scurried in between Ami's feet and took off down an alleyway before stopping to inspect a forgotten trash bag that had split open. It squeaked with delight as it pulled out an old black banana peel. The disgusting creature took the moldy thing in its mouth, stole one last look at Ami, as if defying her to take away its new treat, and disappeared from view.

But those kinds of animals didn't bother her. What bothered her were the big animals who could walk and talk and speak. And leer.

About ten minutes into the walk, she suddenly became aware of a man following her. But her polite nature prevented her from just turning around and glaring at the man. That would've been rude. So she had to improvise. At a crosswalk, she made a production of looking in every which direction for oncoming traffic and in the process she was able to catch a glimpse of her follower.

Judging by his moth-eaten coat and torn baggy pants, he was more than likely a homeless person. Nothing especially strange about that, though. There were so many of them these days. But there was something hiding behind his bloodshot eyes that made Ami's skin crawl. An unhealthy desire for teenage girls, perhaps?

Her gaze drifted up from his wild beard to his age-worn face and back to his eyes again. He smiled and winked at her. He then commenced with a disgusting gesture that included a series of pelvic thrusts and a licking of the lips.

Taken aback, Ami refocused her attention forward.

She felt totally exposed. Completely vulnerable to attack. She found herself wishing, and certainly not for the first time, that she could transform. Not that she would've wasted a henshin on _this_ guy, but it would've been a nice peace of mind that, if she wanted to, she could just freeze his little perverted butt up with a Shine Snow Illusion.

The crossing signal changed with a chain of rapid bleeps and the crowd around Ami began to move forward. Feeling somewhat protected by the people around her, she chanced a look back again.

The stalker was gone. Off to join the other rats in the sewer, most likely.

Five minutes later, Ami found herself on the familiar street that led to the arcade and fruit parlor. Her feet took over about halfway there, propelling her body forward with a subconscious goal in mind. A good thing, too, since any street reference to the two places had been stripped away. The flashy neon sign that had once hung over the entrance to the arcade had been removed. Gone, too, were the posters that had covered the windows announcing the latest Tekken or Sailor V game. Now the two places were nothing more than empty blocks on steel and concrete, indistinguishable from any other building along the street.

It looked as though the Crown Arcade and Fruit Parlor had joined in with the 16.

And there was Makoto. She had her back to Ami.

"Mako-chan."

She turned and smiled - more in greeting than from a genuine gladness to see her friend. "They've taken away all the games."

Ami turned to the windows and held one hand up to block the sun as she looked inside. Yep. "They" had taken everything. All the game machines were gone. The prize counter had been uprooted. A lone Sailor Moon plush doll (a reward from the claw-grab machine) lay forgotten in the middle of the dusty floor, serving as the only clue as to what the building had been before.

"It looks bigger with everything cleared out," Ami offered. It was the best she could come up with.

"Yep." Makoto popped her knuckles. "Let's get a move on."

Trepidation suddenly plunged Ami's brain into a panicky freeze. They were really going to do this thing, then. They were going to confront Shingo the Wiseman. They were just going to walk up to him and demand he put a stop to all the shenanigans _right now_! Somehow that didn't seem like the best plan in the world. Especially considering her current transformation dilemma. What if things turned ugly? What if Shingo decided he wasn't going to operate? If that happened, she'd be fully open to attack. Makoto would be there, true, but even she probably wouldn't be a match for the Wiseman. He had the power of Nemesis, the planet of darkness, on his side.

Nemesis. Thinking of the name brought with it a host of unpleasant memories. And why not? She had been taken prisoner there after being kidnapped by Crimson Rubeus of the Black Moon Clan all those years ago. And even though it _had_ been years ago, she could still picture it perfectly. If she closed her eyes, she could smell the stagnant air of the dungeon, hot and sticky in her nostrils. She could still hear the constant roar of the planet as storms waged war in the black skies above. It had been so _loud_ there. Loud and scary.

It wasn't fair that they would have to deal with this again. The Black Moon and Nemesis were things of the past! They were defeated enemies! Gone. Dead. Forgotten. Or at least they were supposed to be. Ami had to remind herself that the fight against the Black Moon had been waged in the _future_ and therefore it still existed here in the past. Now they were dealing with the emergence of the Clan and the rise of its leader – the Wiseman (_Shingo_, some part of Ami's mind corrected).

But that brought with it its own unique questions. Suppose they were able to quell the Wiseman's rebellion here in the past. What consequences would that have in the future? If they killed the Wiseman (_Shingo_) in the past, before his rise to power, that would effectively erase his existence in the 30th century. And if he didn't exist in the 30th century, the attack of Crystal Tokyo would've never happened. But if the attack never happened, Chibiusa (Usagi's daughter from the future) would've never traveled back in time and told them of the Wiseman. And if they, the Sailor Soldiers of the 20th century, never knew of the Wiseman, they couldn't very well kill him before his rise to power.

A paradox, in other words. This notion fascinated Ami as a budding scientist and terrified her as a normal teenage girl. They would have to tread very lightly to avoid setting off a chain reaction here in the present that would have the potential to destroy the future.

Speaking of which…

The Tsukino residence loomed ahead, seemingly twice the size of all the other houses around it. Ami felt herself hesitate. The air seemed heavy.

Makoto, however, did not hesitate. Not even for an instant. She marched right up to the front door and rang the doorbell. "Coming!" Came the muffled voice of someone from the other side. Then the door was opened after a flutter of hurried footsteps and the two girls were face to face with Mrs. Tsukino.

Her face was heavy from lack of sleep. In one hand, she held a soapy dinner plate and in the other, a dishrag. Her tired eyes quickly played over the girls' faces. "Oh, hello. Can I help you ladies with anything?"

"Is Shingo home? We were hoping to have a little chat with him," Makoto said. Her voice came out friendly enough, but Ami could detect the hidden venom behind her words.

"Shingo?" Mrs. Tsukino blinked, surprised that her daughter's friends would want to call on _him_. "Why, yes. He just got back from a sleepover at a friend's. Why don't you come inside and I'll get him for you?"

Smiling her best faux smile, Makoto shook her head. "No thanks. We won't be that long. Could you just tell him to meet us out here?"

"Sure." Ikuko moved further back inside "Tell Usagi she can come home anytime, okay?" And she closed the door.

The trepidation that Ami had been feeling had since ripened into anxiety. What was she doing here? She couldn't transform! She _should_ be back at home, working on a computer program that would figure things out for them so they wouldn't have to be doing this now. Why hadn't Makoto asked Minako to accompany her instead? Oh. She couldn't transform either. Well, why hadn't she asked Rei, then? Hmm?

_Oh, stop it!_ A part of her mind spoke up. _You're a Sailor Soldier regardless of whether or not you can transform. You're the brains of the team, remember? It's up to you to figure this thing out._

Yeah, she was the team brain, but that didn't stop her from feeling like the team's third wheel a lot of the time. Sometimes she just didn't feel like she belonged. The others fit into the mix nicely. Makoto was the strongest, physically, of the inner team, Rei had those psychic powers, and Minako was the team leader – and Usagi the glue that held them all together. Ami was the weakest. Without question. She was the shyest. She was always the first to go down or faint from exhaustion.

Truth be told, she sometimes wondered if the universe had made a mistake when it had selected her star seed for Sailorization.

The front door opened and Shingo stepped outside, cutting off any doubts that Ami had. This wasn't the time to question oneself. This was the time to act.

"Yo." Shingo said. "What's up?" He sounded so natural, so at ease. So full of it.

"Well, a lot of things to be honest." Makoto took a step forward, her jaw set, her eyes narrow with anger. "Do you have a few minutes to spare? We'd like to talk to you about something."

Shingo shrugged and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "I guess. But make it quick. I made it to the final level in Street Fighter and I can't be gone long before the adrenaline loses its punch. I work best when it's flowing good and heavy, ya know."

Neither Makoto nor Ami offered a response to this.

The good-humored look on Shingo's face faded fast. "Okay," he said. "Quit with the creepy stares and tell me what's going on. Is … is something wrong with Usagi?"

No response.

"Is Usagi hurt? Did she have an accident? Did she get hit by a bus? Fall into a manhole? _What?!_ Stop eyeballin' me and tell me what's going on!"

Up until that time, Ami had thought that Makoto was going to play the intimidation game – saying nothing and giving him The Eye, spooking him just enough by not saying anything to get him to talk. But that wasn't the case. Once Shingo lost his temper, Makoto lost _hers_.

"Oh, just drop the act!" She yelled, throwing her hands up into the air. "Stop pretending like you care about her! We're not stupid, ya know! We saw what happened!"

Shingo smiled a nervous grin. "Saw what? What are you going on about?"

Veins rippled through the surface of Makoto's neck. Her hands turned into claws as she gestured frantically to the kid in front of her. "Don't play dumb! We _saw_ you the other night! You were going to kill her! You were going to kill your own _sister_!"

"Is this a joke or something? I don't-"

"Does it look like I'm laughing, Shingo?" Makoto lunged at him, locking him into place against the wall of the house with her hands. "Does it look like I'm doubled over with laughter here?"

"The earthquake. The predictions." Ami took position behind her teammate. "Wiseman. Nemesis. Is any of this ringing a bell?" A vague sense of pride washed over her at the sound of her own confident voice. Sailor fuku or no sailor fuku, she was still a Sailor Soldier.

"No! No, I have no idea what you're talking about! Let me go now or else I'm gonna-"

Makoto took one quick step back, grabbed a handful of Shingo's shirt in one clenched fist, and threw him to the ground. He hit the grass doing a crazed cartwheel. His legs were flung wildly up into the air. "You aren't going to do _any_thing anymore, little man," Makoto said as she placed herself over his sprawled body. "We're taking it from here."

She bent down and grabbed him by the shirt collar. She hoisted him roughly to his feet. And even though Shingo had been doing a lot of growing lately, he was still a good three inches shorter than his assailant. Even though he was a boy, he had nowhere near the strength to break free of this iron grip he found himself in.

He opened his mouth to plea for mercy, but abruptly snapped it shut. It wouldn't do any good. His terrified eyes tumbled back and forth from Makoto to Ami. And when they came to rest upon hers, she saw in them a kind of childlike fear – something that the future leader of the Black Moon Clan would never show. Shingo was suddenly a child of about 8 and Makoto, the playground bully.

Now Makoto's fist came flying out of nowhere, striking him in the face. He hit the ground again with a loud _oomph_, his arm bending unnaturally underneath his body in the process. And now he was screaming – screaming that his arm was broken, his arm was broken! And Makoto was kicking him, kicking him while he was down, and screaming at him to tell them the truth, that he was really the Wiseman, wasn't he?!

Such anger. Such primal fury.

"You're not gonna hurt anyone anymore!!" Makoto shouted in between kicks. "Not anymore!"

Ami took a step back, dazed by this extraordinary show of aggression. She looked back at the Tsukino house. How much longer until Mrs. Tsukino would hear her son's screams and rush outside?

"Please, I-" Shingo managed.

"Shuttup!!" Kick, kick.

A single tear slid down Shingo's bruised face. Ami watched it as it hung on his chin and then broke off. What was going on? What was happening? How had the situation deteriorated so fast? This wasn't what the Sailor Soldiers were about, hurting the helpless. It didn't matter if he was the enemy.

"Mako-chan!"

"Say you're sorry! Go on, _say it_!!"

But she didn't give him a chance.

Ami covered with mouth with two shaking hands. She could feel her heart thudding nervously in her chest. "Mako-chan!!" Mrs. Tsukino was going to pop in on their little interrogation any minute now.

"You tried to kill Usagi-chan! What makes you think we wouldn't have returned the favor?!"

This wasn't Makoto. It couldn't be. Some creature had taken her place. Makoto could be a bit intense sometimes, sure, but not … not like _this_.

Shingo's head rolled back. His eyes did the same. His body went limp. The kicking ensued.

He was going to die if this continued. Ami was sure of it.

"Makoto!!"

With the dropping of the honorific, the beating ceased. Nobody spoke for the longest time. The only sound, the wind whistling through the trees and a continuous moan coming from the bruised and bloody pulp that had once been Usagi's brother.

Ami rushed past her friend (could she really still call Makoto that after witnessing that torture?) and knelt beside Shingo. She placed two expert fingers against his throat and took his pulse. It felt fine. Thank goodness. "_What_ is your problem?!" Ami cried out at the stiff form above her. "Have you lost your mind?"

"He's the enemy." Makoto said simply. As if that made it all alight. As if that made it okay.

Ami gently touched Shingo's cheek. His eyelids fluttered open briefly and then closed again. No unnecessary pupil dilation. That was good at least. She told Makoto as much.

"Too bad."

" 'Too bad'? What are saying? You nearly put him in a coma!"

Makoto folded her arms defiantly against her chest. "Why are you making such a thing? He's the Wiseman, Ami! Why can't anybody get that through their heads?! He's the Wiseman! The enemy! You saw him chasing after Usagi! He was going to KILL her, Ami! What are we supposed to do, let him get away with it?!"

Ami swallowed and peeped at Shingo. Blood trickled out of one nostril. His lips looked like two swollen strips of bacon. Something stirred in her heart as she looked down upon him. Shame. Shame that she had permitted such a thing to occur. "We're the Sailor Soldiers. We don't kick people when they're down. You should've learned that by now."

"Don't get so righteous with me!" Makoto's green eyes flashed with fire. "How many enemies have we killed? I don't have the fingers to count them all! Sometimes we have to do evil to prevent the greater evil! That's what I've learned during my life as a Sailor Soldier!"

"I don't believe that," Ami said.

"Fine. Fine! You sit there and play the good cop! Play doctor on him and treat his wounds! Go fiddle on your little computer and try to come up with a plan while the world burns! If you need me, I'll be out doing my job!" Makoto spun on her heels and began to storm off. After going about five steps, she turned her head and said, "Wake up, Ami. That's my advice to you. Wake up and be the Soldier that you're supposed to be."

And then she was gone.

Ami watched her go. She watched her as she grew smaller and smaller in the distance and was eventually obscured by the traffic on the street. _Become the soldier that I'm supposed to be. _She shook her head. If that's what being a soldier entailed, beating and kicking the helpless, she really didn't want to be part of the organization any longer. But she also knew that Makoto was wrong. Fighting was a big part of the Sailor Soldier's life, yes, but the bigger part, the main creed was one of protection and compassion.

Shingo reached up with a trembling hand and placed it over Ami's. "Th – Th- Thanks. Thanks for st – st- stop – ping it."

But how were you supposed to be forgiving and compassionate to someone who killed without a second thought? How were you supposed to extend the hand of friendship toward a genocidal madman? Could that be expected of anybody? Even a Sailor Soldier?

"Thanks," Shingo said again, stronger this time. And when he spoke, Ami tried to compare his voice, a voice still squeaky with puberty, to the growling death rattle of the Wiseman she'd once fought. There was no comparison, but she still couldn't ignore the facts. She couldn't discount the truth.

"Thanks," Shingo repeated. "I don't-"

Ami put up a hand, cutting him off. She got to her feet and turned her back to the boy on the ground. "Don't thank me. Really. I don't …. I not even sure if I did the right thing."

She stole one last look at him before walking away.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

He sits and waits. A solitary figure sitting alone in the corner of a classroom, fingers drumming rhythmically upon the top of the scratched wood of an ancient writing desk, he waits for his future to be revealed. Nervous butterflies, and an assortment of other creatures, flutter to and fro from deep within his stomach. The suspense is overwhelming. Still, it will do no good to worry over something that you have no control over. Patience is supposedly a virtue.

Faded sunlight shines through the dirty windows on the left side of the room, bathing Ms. Hazaki in harsh yellowy tones. She's up at the front of the room with the graded tests in hand. Now she's going on about how this particular test is worth more than any other previous test combined and how, if you screwed up on it, you are basically screwed for the semester.

He sits. He waits. He wants to know; yet he does not want to know.

Now she is calling out names and handing the papers back.

It had been a hard test. No, scratch that. An impossible test – six pages long, cumulative, and _all_ essay. He'll do good to get a D.

He watches the other students as their names are called. He watches how their expressions change once they have been given their exam. Some faces light up into relieved smiles (startled by this, that anyone could've made a high grade on _that_ test, he sneaks a peek at their paper, only to find the reason for their smiles to be a C.) but most are frowns. He has a sinking suspicion that once his name is called, he will join in with the latter group.

His name is called.

He scoots his chair out slowly. It makes an unbearable screeching noise against

the linoleum floor. Once at the front of the room, he takes his test from Ms. Hazaki with a shaky hand, anxious to observe her face as she hands it to him. But she has already moved on and is calling out another name.

_This is it_, he tells himself as he heads back to his desk. _This is the test that will make or break you_. He flips through the six pages of hell without looking down. If he failed, his GPA is history. His future career in politics is history. Anything less than a C and his life is history. Everything hinges on this test. This grade.

Without really meaning to, he looks down and sees a series of huge red slashes up near the top of the exam sheet, next to where he'd written his name. His heart sinks. He breath catches. All that red can only mean one thing: failure. Tears begin to well up behind his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. It isn't his fault that he failed. Oh, no. It's that stupid Ms. Hazaki's fault. Oh, _yes_. Stupid Ms. Hazaki, who would rather chatter the class period away talking about her _STUPID_ pet guinea pig than actually _TEACHING_ something!!! Now his life was over, his future was over, but she was just going to keep on living like she always had, oblivious as to the pain she'd caused him. She wasn't going to suffer, _he_ was!

Eyes bulging with hatred, he shoots the little whore a look that could kill. He hates her. With a passion. He wishes her dead.

Then he happens to glance down and sees that the slashes of red are actually words – "Great job! You really nailed this one! It's nice to see that somebody's actually studying!" – and there, proud and unashamed in bright red ink, his grade.

A one hundred and ten. A perfect score. He even got the bonus question right. Pure elation washes over him, cleansing him of the hatred he'd felt so strongly a moment before. A perfect score! It's impossible! But a second look confirms it.

The other students around him are complaining about their low grades, but he pays it no mind. Idiots. Maybe if they studied a little harder they would've scored higher. It isn't rocket science. Morons.

A few minutes later the dismissing bell for the day rings and he's out of there like a shot. He runs the however-many-blocks back home with a broad smile on his face and a song in his heart. A perfect score on the hardest test of the year! Imagine! He can't wait to tell his parents and bask in their praise.

The apartment complex is right ahead. He takes the stairs up. The elevator is too slow. Panting and giddy with happy anticipation after climbing up all those flights, he rushes to his door, throws it open and thunders inside without taking time to remove his shoes - which is a big middle finger thrust into the face of tradition, but who really cares?

"Mom!" He shouts. "Mom!"

"In here," comes a tired voice from the kitchen area.

Still clutching the impossible test, he races toward the sound of her voice and finds her hunkered over the oven, her black hair and face both shiny with perspiration. Various pots and pans surround her, each one filled to the brim with some kind of delicious-smelling spice or powder. She's preparing dinner. And, oh, what a dinner it will be once she hears the news! Her eyes will go wide with disbelief and she'll ask if he's kidding her and then he'll show her the test, the grade, and she'll hug him and tell him how proud she is! And then she'll make his favorite dish just for him because he's _proven_ himself today.

"What is it, honey? I'm kind of busy right now."

He smiles. She'll stop in mid-stride once she sees his grade, oh yes. "We got our grades back today on that test we took a week ago."

"Uh huh," she says, and hurries past him to grab a carton of eggs.

"Many people didn't do so well. The class average was a D, which isn't all that great." He's toying with her now – delaying the moment. It may be cruel, but he wants to build the anticipation so that when he finally _does_ tell her, it'll make it all the more spectacular.

"Huh," she says as she cracks two eggs open along the rim of a dish. The yellow yolks plop down into the batter and she grabs a spoon and begins to stir.

"But look what I made." He takes the test in his hands and extends it out to her. He's aware that he sounds a little like a two year old, but it can't be helped. He's just so excited.

"Wow. That's great," his mother says without looking. She then breezes past him on her way to the fridge. She opens it and takes out a jug of milk.

He frowns. Can't she stop buzzing around for five seconds and look at what he's showing her? He tries again. "Look at _my_ score."

His mother sighs, the sound of which triggers a rockslide of sorts in his soul. "Just tell me. I can't look right now."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he takes his arm back. His mouth set, his eyes mere slits, he says, "A one hundred and ten." Each number comes out short and painfully accented.

"Wow. That's great," the woman says. She says this in the exact same tone she used when she didn't know.

Anger, red and throbbing, narrows his vision into tunnel-scope. She doesn't care. She can't even pretend to be excited. He takes the test up in both hands and has to use an enormous amount of self-control not to tear it in two. But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Wait. Actually that's not quite right. He wants to tear his _mother_ in two. He wants to take her thin, dainty neck in his hands and twist until he hears a pop. He wants to punish her.

"_I EVEN GOT THE BONUS QUESTION RIGHT, YOU STUPID SLUT_!!!!"

The milk jug she had been holding falls to the ground and spills its contents out all over the floor in a white rush. She twirls on her heels and faces him, her mouth open in perfect shock and surprise.

She hears him now. Oh, yes she does. You better believe it.

Oh, look. Now she's gonna cry. Tears are already dripping from her eyes. Her hands fly up to her chest in a defensive gesture. She blinks. Once. Twice. More tears fall. "Wh- What did you say?"

But it's too late. He's already turning away and heading out of the kitchen. He hears his mother's voice calling after him: "Honey, I'm sorry. Mommy was just so busy. I'll look at your test now. Really. Why don't you come on back and you can show me how good you did, hmm?"

He stops and looks back. She's standing there in the doorway with red weeping eyes and pink blotches on her cheeks. She looks like a big fat ugly pig. And now she's smiling at him like she thinks an apology's not far off.

No such luck. He looks his mother square in the eye and says, "Do me a favor and go hang yourself."

She bursts into tears and he laughs all the way to his room.

His father comes home some time later to an empty kitchen, his wife having long since gone go bed. Dinner remains unprepared. The pots and pans are still out. The spilled milk hasn't been touched and is starting to smell.

"Dad."

His father turns to him. He doesn't look happy. "What happened here?" He exclaims, pointing to the mess on the kitchen floor. "You better clean this up before somebody gets hurt! What a mess!"

"You know that test we took a week ago? I got my grade back."

"A mess," repeats his father as rips a paper towel off the dispenser near the stove. He bends down and starts to clean the milk up. His tie, having been tucked into the waist of his pants beforehand, now comes loose and drops into the liquid. "A mess!!" He screams as he rips the tie from his neck. He takes it in one hand and slings it across the room. "I come home after a long day's work and _this_ is what I find!"

"I made a one hundred and ten on it," his son informs.

"That's nice," Dad says. "Hand me another towel, will you? I don't think one's gonna get it."

He frowns. Surely his father will be more understanding. Maybe he just hadn't heard. Without budging, he repeats the score.

"Yes, yes. That's great. Now hand me another towel!"

He does. Begrudgingly.

Once the disaster has been diverted, he tries again.

"A one hundred and ten, huh?" His father repeats the perfect grade with a notable lack of enthusiasm. "That's pretty good."

A crazed laugh threatens to bubble its way up from his throat as he watches his father move into the living room. Pretty good? _Pretty_ good?!?! _No, it isn't pretty good_, he thinks. _It's REALLY good! It's VERY good! A 110! It's … it's … _PERFECT_!!!_

The TV snaps on and his father settles into his favorite recliner, fully prepared to waste the night away watching American football.

He watches all this from the kitchen doorway. He watches his father clap when his favorite team makes a touchdown. He watches him as he shouts orders at the players and challenges the referee's calls. The fool. The imbecile.

Silent as a cat stalking its prey, the boy across the room closes his eyes and tilts his head back. He pictures his father's face in his mind – his sagging brown eyes, his receding hairline, his high distinguished forehead. He pictures his brain, his mind, as a locked chest, bolted tightly against the outside. And then, ever so gently, he begins to fiddle with the lock.

Like a child unwrapping a fragile Christmas package, he slips into his father's thoughts with great care. He doesn't want to alert him to the fact that he's sneaking around. Not that he would actually know what was going on. More than likely, the only thing he'd feel would be a slight tickling – something akin to the brain-freeze you get after slurping up ice cream too fast. If that.

Ah. Now the latch has been broken and he is free to dive into the mind of his father. He does so with abandon. Still standing statue-like in the kitchen doorway, he paws through his father's memories as if they were garbage. His mind is crammed to the brim with sports teams and fantasy football (American, mind you) and cheerleaders and game dates. Trash, in other words. Useless information. This isn't what he's looking for.

Years fly by like pages in a book being turned by the wind. Back and back and back. Flip, flip, flip. There. He stops the turning and focuses upon a particular scene, a particular instant in time. He sees himself as an infant. He sees his stupid cow of a mother holding him to her breast and he sees his father standing over them with a smile on his face. They're in a hospital room. Balloons and flowers are arranged everywhere, incasing the happy family of three among a bevy of cards and trinkets. It's a boy! Congratulations! Hip-hip, hooray!

He watches this scene in the past unfold with perfect clarity. His father's thoughts are glowing. He reaches out toward his newly born son with one big hand and thinks, _My boy, my boy. You'll grow up to be big and strong just like his dad_. Images of touchdowns and late-night football practices spring to mind and his father smiles once again. He already has his son's entire life planned out.

Flash forward an odd number of years. The son his wife has born him has turned out nothing at all like he had envisioned. He's turned out tall and strong, but lacking in the desire to prove himself physically. Instead of footballs and basketballs and sporting activities, he prefers books and telescopes and science experiments.

Now, standing in the kitchen doorway, he reads his father's mind and realizes that one word can sum up his thoughts toward his son: Disappointment.

Enraged beyond anything he has ever experienced, he takes the test in hand and shreds it into little pieces. He watches as the white bits of paper flutter to the ground. He watches his father, still sitting in his special chair, and wishes there were some way to punish him – to make him feel as unwanted as he was feeling now. His mother felt the same way. He's sure of it. He's nothing but a disappointment. But that's fine. Really, it is. Right there, at that moment, in that instant, he decides that he hates his parents and that he always will. There will be no forgiveness.

Later that night, he sneaks out of the apartment without telling anyone. He has his cherished telescope in hand as he transverses the night-streets of the city, on his way to the park. Stargazing has always helped ease his mind in the past. There's just something magical about looking up there and seeing the galaxy in all its magnified splendor…

But it does little to cheer him up tonight. But that's all right, for he doesn't want to be cheered up. He'd rather wallow in his pity than forgive his parents. His parents…. How could they think that about him – that he was a disappointment? Never mind the fact that they had never come right out and said it. And never mind the fact that he had gone trespassing into his father's private thoughts. It didn't matter. The truth was the truth. And the fact of the matter was he felt totally betrayed.

He looks through the eyepiece of his telescope and tries to enjoy the majesty of the stars, but it's no use. His anger will not abate. He hates them, his mother and father. More than anything else in this life, he hates them. He finds himself wishing that they'd never wake up from tonight's sleep, that they'll have a heart attack and die before morning.

He tries to enjoy the stars. It's a beautiful night for stargazing, however. The moon seems brighter than it's ever been. And not just the moon. The entire sky seems alive with magic. He can clearly make out each of the constellations. Sagittarius in particular seems brighter than usual…

He guides the telescope to the right a bit and gasps as something bright whizzes past the viewfinder. A shooting star? Grinning to himself, he pulls back from the telescope and studies the night for any sign of it. Weren't they lucky? Didn't some people make wishes on them?

"Oh, I have a wish," he says to himself. He thinks of his parents sleeping comfortably in their beds. "I have a wish indeed."

Then he sees it again – the shooting star or whatever it is. It's ripping across the blackness, leaving a fire-trail in its wake. It seems awfully big. It seems like … it seems like it's getting closer.

It is. And it's coming straight at him.

A meteorite! He utters a small cry of surprise and throws himself upon the ground, hands over his head. He knows that even a small rock, when traveling at a fast enough speed, can cause serious injury or even death. So he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for impact.

And there is an impact. He feels it first – a shuddering vibration that travels through his body and rattles his teeth inside his gums. Then he hears the sound, a delayed _woomph! _of something solid and heavy being thrust quickly into the ground.

He remains there, in that position, for a moment more before venturing out to see the point of collision. At first, though, all he can see is a gigantic hole about five feet in circumference and about two feet deep. Little curls of grey smoke twist into the air around the edges and a cloud of dust particles glides gracefully through the space above the crater. And then he sees something – something wedged way down deep into the earth. Something glittering black.

Fascinated, he reaches in with his right hand, only vaguely aware that the meteorite will most likely be too hot from its passage through the Earth's atmosphere to handle.

But it's not. If anything, it's cold to the touch. He lifts it from the crater and examines it. It stands out brilliantly against his white palm – a black slab of glistening rock, no bigger than a fingernail. It's lovely. It's beautiful in a kind of forbidden way. He turns it over in his hand and marvels at its sleek texture.

And then it speaks to him. It calls him by name.

Naturally, he is startled. He attempts to drop the stone, but it's stuck to his palm, as if by glue. And now it seems to be growing hotter.

The stone speaks again. Again by name, it calls him.

He blinks. This can't be real. He's hallucinating. He knows he is.

_Little lost boy without a place_, it says in a voice that is both male and female and yet neither. _Do not fear. I wish only to speak with you._

That relaxes him a bit. The voice …. it's so soothing. So comforting. And not really like a voice at all, but rather like a series of emotions that his mind is forming into words. Like a gentle wave breaking upon a sandy beach, the voice speaks its tranquil message over and over again: _Do not fear. Do not fear._

And he doesn't. His fear is gone, replaced by a sense of total unabashed awe. He is suddenly sure that he is conversing with a god. He leans forward and gently caresses the black stone with one reverent finger. Somehow he manages to string together words to form a question: "Who …. who are you? How do you know me?"

Who _I am doesn't matter so much as what I_ can _be_, comes the gentle reply.

"Alright. But _who_ can you be to me?"

_If you would have me, I can be your mother. Your father. Your teacher in all things._

He nods in dreamy understanding. And suddenly he's quite sure this _is_ a dream, but a dream from which he never wishes to awaken. He feels as if he's floating. Such a wonderful feeling of weightlessness. Up through the hazy gauze of the atmosphere and up to meet the twinkling stars.

The stone speaks again and when it does, he can hear the tiny chirping of bells ringing and chimes sounding, matching the connotation of the voice. _You are truly a diamond amongst pebbles. You have a power. A great power, if developed properly. And I can teach you. Your power has drawn me to you. And I have traveled long to speak with you now. _

"But I am unworthy!" He cries abruptly. A diamond amongst pebbles though he may be, but he is still a mortal conversing with a deity. He is naked and dirty in spirit and faith.

_You are, this is true._

He closes his eyes in shame.

_But I have need of you. You have your enemies and I have mine. Together, we can smite those who would defy us from the face of the earth!_

He does not reply. He does not open his eyes.

The voice speaks his name again.

He opens his eyes.

_My son, my son_, the stone whispers. _Never forget this thing that I am about to tell you: I am who you have been looking for, the one who truly needs you. Trust in me and all things will be well._

"I trust you." He squeezes his eyes shut against unshed tears and bends forward to kiss the black crystal with sinful lips. His heart feels heavy with gratitude. He has been chosen! For what or by whom, he does not know. It is only enough that he has finally been recognized as special by someone (or something) after all these years of …. of disappointment.

"I trust you."

A single tears slips through and drops upon the holy object in his hands. It evaporates quickly into the air with a hiss.

_Will you make a pact with me?_

"Yes! Yes. Anytime, anywhere. I pledge myself wholly and fully unto you, my master. Now and forever."

_Good._

And now he sees sights beyond his imagining, as if he has passed through some unseen door that no mortal man has ever passed through. He passes underneath an ancient arch carved from ivory and sees a swirling mass of radiant light hovering formlessly in space. He weeps as he beholds the sight. Its beauty surpasses anything he has seen or will see. He tries to come up with words to describe the sight before him, but fails utterly. But it is no matter. It's enough to just watch and marvel and its indescribable beauty.

But that sight soon shifts to a winged woman sitting upon a throne. A multitude of subjects bow to her and honor her with gifts and she favors them with longevity and peace. She is as beautiful as an angel, with hair flowing long and silver and eyes twinkling a faded blue, but he hates her. How can anyone have such power? Who is she to pass judgment over all?

He asks his master this.

_She is my enemy,_ the Voice responds coldly, as if even to acknowledge her presence is a painful task.

"Then she is mine as well."

And then he's back. Back on earth. Back in the park, with his telescope. But he is not alone. He still has the crystal and he can sense the presence of _another_.

_You have the power, but lack the tools. Now I bestow those tools upon you._

Smiling a smile of most sincere gratitude, he lifts his shining face up to the night and extends his hands out in praise. He can feel the power as it is breathed into him. He can feel his cells expanding and his knowledge increasing. His skin seems to sizzle as the unknown magic courses through his veins. His forehead feels tight, as if the skin is being pulled in two different directions. It's painful. Very painful. But he knows it is a necessary hurdle to overcome.

Then it splits. The skin actually rips in two and he can hear the sound it makes as it does so – a moist tearing sound, like a wet newspaper being torn down the center. Blood splatters down his face and soaks the front of his shirt. The pain is unlike anything else.

And his hands! They're burning. Burning like a thousand white-hot suns. And, oh, it's unbearable! Death seems a stone's throw away, the pain is that intense.

And then, just when he's about to pass out or die from the pain, it's over. Just like that. It's over and he feels _great_.

_Together, we will do great things. We will bring nations to their knees._

The boy collapses upon the grass and dirt in worship. He bows his head and closes all three eyes in respect. "Yes," he breathes. "You are my Master and I, your servant. I go where you go. I shall do what you command. Forever. And always."

He is special. He has been chosen. He is king of the world.

Finally.

…

Like a sleepwalker sauntering through a heavy mist, Satoshi awoke. He did so gradually and without hurry. The digital clock on the nightstand read 4:42 am - too late to go back to sleep, but too early to get up.

But he did anyway.

Without so much as a groan of displeasure from having been woken up so soon, Satoshi threw off the covers and stood up. The hardwood floor felt cold to his bare feet. He stood that way for a long time, stiff and silent. What _had_ woken him up? Something must have. Indeed, there seemed to be a strange kind of energy hovering in the air – as if somebody had screamed and he had awoken to experience the last rumbling echoes. So what….

The dream.

Ah, yes. It all came back to him now. The dream. And what a dream it had been – a dream of bygone times when he had still been searching for answers. And not a dream at all, really, but old memories floating to the surface. Even now, two years after that fateful encounter in the park, he could remember it all. He could still remember the rage and the fury he'd felt after showing his perfect test score to his parents and then having that false praise extended to him. He remembered the impact of the meteorite later that night and the revelation that had come afterwards. Every detail from that day and the night following had been etched into his brain perfectly. And what not? It was then that he became … _enlightened_.

Two years ago. Had it really been that long? It was hard to believe. Things had certainly changed for the better after that encounter in the park, though. In fact, that one night marked the beginning of a new chapter in Satoshi's life. Prior to that, he had been lost, insecure, floundering, boiling with pent-up rage and frustration. But now he was totally and fully in control of himself. He was master of his own destiny. Before, he had been looking for answers in the wrong places. Now, he had not only the answers, but also knowledge and power. Now, not only was he a diamond among pebbles, but also a god among insects.

And all it had taken for him to change was a voice from heaven.

Satoshi ran a hand through his unruly hair and was surprised to find it moist with sweat. His mouth and throat both felt dry as a cotton ball. He needed a drink.

Moving with the sloth of a dreamer just having been awoken, he moved from his room, out into the hallway beyond, and into the kitchen area – the same kitchen where his mother had revealed her true colors to him two years ago. A soft unconscious smile played itself over Satoshi's mouth as he opened the refrigerator and took out a jug of milk, which he drank straight out of. Blissful memories. He then went over to the scant pantry and retrieved an old Snickers bar, which he scarfed down half of.

On his way back to his room, he took time to pause just outside the door at the end of the hall – the door Hotaru had been so curious with a few days ago. He pressed an ear against the cool wood and listened. Nothing. Silence. He couldn't hear a blasted thing.

Hmph. That wouldn't do. Not at all. There was usually such a constant rumble coming from behind the door that he had long since tuned it out. Now the abrupt silence seemed deafening. That meant _they_ were slacking off. And that wouldn't do. There was a quota that needed to be met. So he gripped the door handle firmly in one hand and pushed.

An overwhelming aroma of urine mixed with feces struck him full in the face, threatening to send him reeling into unconsciousness, but he somehow managed to pull through it and step into the room beyond. Two years ago, the room at the end of the hall had basically been a giant step-in closet - useful for storage of the vacuum cleaner, among other things. Now, though, Satoshi liked to think of it as "the assembly line". This was where the magic happened. Of course, the magic wasn't happening right now because his workers had fallen asleep on the job.

_Some work ethic_, Satoshi thought as he eyed the two sleeping forms. They were sprawled out on the closet floor like corpses, two crumpled male and female shapes lying facedown amid a mound of sand. The man was snoring.

But Satoshi did not wake them up. At least not yet. First he had to check on their progress and determine whether or not they deserved a break, the little laggards. He gingerly stepped over the two of them and made his way to the back of the room, where the garbage big was. It was a big plastic monstrosity, designed for street-side duty, but its large size was perfect for Satoshi's needs. It was also enchanted. At the beginning of the creation cycle, it would be full of sand and once all of it had been used up, the thing would refill itself again by magic. A nifty little trick, really.

Right now, however, it was only half full. Half full – which meant _they_ had been slacking off, as he thought they had been. Indeed, upon closer inspection he saw the half-finished body of a sand-figure propped up against the east wall. Its lower body had already been completed, its legs nicely filling out a pair of black jeans, but that was all. And that wouldn't do. No, not at all.

"Get up. _Now_," Satoshi growled, kicking the sleeping woman square in the side. He had to be tough with them. They could sense if you were a soft touch. They would sense it and would use it against you by lazing about when they were supposed to be working.

The woman awoke with a muffled cry of surprise. She flipped over crazily and rolled over the man beside her, who came alive with a sharp, sudden scream. The two of them began to mumble hurriedly, that inane retard-speak that Satoshi so hated. They turned their poor faces up to their master then, and looked upon him with sad, idiot eyes.

They disgusted him. They disgusted him just as they had two years ago. Even more so now, for the dream had revitalized his feelings of hatred toward his parents. But it had all balanced out in the end, hadn't it? Two years later and here he was standing over them like the god he was, and there _they_ were, locked inside a closet ever since, barely competent – forced to poop and pee in the little bucket over in the corner and spending all their days slaving away to help their son realize his dreams of world domination.

Call it poetic justice.

Satoshi grinned devilishly and bent down on his hind legs, brining his face close to his mother's. She looked rough. Gone was the pretty raven-haired housewife Mrs. Yomata. A monster had taken her place - a bald, melon-headed monster with one eye swollen shut and the other eternally open, seeing the dark world of the closet through a clouded-over cornea. A big, thick ugly red scar ran the circumference of her head, encircling it like a tattooed crown. Gone too, was the big and strapping Mr. Yomata, the sports fanatic Mr. Yomata, the successful lawyer Mr. Yomata. A withered old man had stepped into that role, a man as hideous in appearance as the woman beside him. The two of them looked like monstrous twins, in fact – stand-ins for the Hunchback of Notre Dame, perhaps. They were practically identical from each other in their deformities. They both even sported the same ghastly scar.

That's where the surgery had taken place, you see.

It had been The Master's idea, of course, just like everything else had been. One night he came to Satoshi in a dream and told him what to do. Satoshi had awakened from the vision feeling skittish and whimsy with glee. He had been prepared to follow The Master's instructions down to the letter. He had retrieved a knife from the kitchen drawer and then plodded his way to his parent's room, all the while fantasizing over what exciting possibilities the future might bring.

But the most wonderful thing about that night had been the _screams_. And oh, how they had screamed! How they had yelped and shrieked and pleaded for mercy as he sliced into their skulls with the glee of a child carving up a jack-o'-lantern, all the while holding them down onto the bed with a mild telekinetic force. How the blood had sprayed. And how the screams had slowly died off, warbling into eventual nothingness, as he scooped more and more of their brains out….

All of The Master's ideas were winners, but that one had been especially good.

It had been done to ensure that they wouldn't be prompted to flee while constructing the droids - that they would be totally and completely subservient. But it came with a price. They held only the most basic communication and verbal skills. And talking to them wouldn't do you any good. They only responded to simplistic physic commands – and even then, nothing more complex than three-word sentences. Anything over that, and they would just sit on their butts and look at you. Look at you with those slimy yellow eyes of theirs.

"Ddaaarrr?" The Mrs. Yomata-thing bellowed. All of her three-second attention span was focused upon the half-eaten Snickers bar Satoshi still held in his hand. "_DAAAARR_!!"

"Hhhmmpapffh!" Papa Yomata wheezed. His effort at communication sounded like a long, drawn-out fart.

Disgusting.

_Shut up. Both of you. _He fired off the telepathic command like a shot from a gun.

They did. He had trained them well.

Satoshi eyed his former parents (he no longer considered himself related to either of them in any way) with an uncaring stare. _You want this?_ He dangled the candy bar in front of their stupid faces the way a dog owner might taunt an uncooperative puppy with a bone. His father reached for the prize with one clawed hand. Satoshi snatched it away. _Keep working. Maybe after._

Newly spurred into activity by the rare promise of food, Mr. Yomata rose to wobbling legs and bounded over to the magic garbage bin. He really did look like a big half-witted monkey with his knees knocking together and his arms flapping out behind him. He paused at the bin, took one last look at his son for approval, and dug both hands into the sand, using the bottom of his shirt to act as a catcher. He then bounced back to the half-completed figure by the wall and dumped it all into a pile next to the thing. Mrs. Yomata, meanwhile, had risen up and grabbed an old T-shirt from a hanger above and was already tucking it into the waistband of the figure's black jeans. White, with the words "Triangle Delta Triathlon" written on the back, Satoshi recognized it as an old workout shirt of his father's.

They worked as a team, stuffing the sand into the shirt and then molding it into the shape of arms, hands, and a head. Even the normally ungrateful Satoshi had to marvel at the care they took in sculpting. They carefully rounded out each finger into perfect organic cylinders. With steady hands, they hollowed out a space for the eye sockets. They were truly artisans at work. And why not? This was their new duty in life; and after two years of working at it, they had mastered the skill completely. And they had become quite efficient. In a twelve-hour day, they could easily create and bring to life about 50 droids. Calculate that by the length of their two-year imprisonment, and that equaled out to be around 36,500 created so far.

Droids. They were proof positive of The Master's divinity. Who else but a god could breathe the breath of life into a pile of sand and bid it to full, breathing reality? Even now, after the 36,500 mark, Satoshi couldn't help but be in awe of the whole situation. They were truly marvels of alchemy, these soldiers of sand. Each one possessed inhuman strength, agility, and best of all, the ability to change form. This was what impressed him the most – the way their faces and bodies could change. Yes, even now he was still amazed at the way their rocky featureless faces would begin to ripple and pull back just before the transformation and how the eyes would emerge from their sunken hollows as the sand slowly solidified into flesh.

"Daaargh!"

Satoshi turned his attention back to the situation at hand. His mother and father had completed their duty. The droid was finished. True, it looked less than threatening in jeans and an oversized T-shirt, but that didn't diminish the magic of it all. It was a top of the line killing machine nonetheless.

As Satoshi looked on, the droid began to move. First with a twitching of the fingers, and then with a rolling of the head, it began to stir. The Master was breathing life into it. The Master was energizing every grain of sand with his holy power. It was a marvelous thing to behold. And, like a wobbly marionette being guided by an unsure puppeteer, the thing rose to its feet. It regarded Satoshi for the briefest instant – its hollow eyeless face locking onto his dark almond eyes - and then it was gone, vanished into thin air with a brilliant purple flash and a loud _boomph!_ as air snapped back into the newly empty space where only seconds before, a figure had stood. Gone. To where, Satoshi did not know.

"Daar!"

He looked down upon his parents, who were regarding him with childlike hope. They reached out, their claw-like hands motioning for him to give them something. Something …. but what? What did the little inbreeds want? Oh, yeah. The Snickers. Satoshi withdrew the candy bar from his pocket. It was already half eaten. No more than two or three bites remained – nowhere near enough for two people. Still, a promise was a promise.

"Don't choke on it."

It struck his father square in the chest and landed on the closet floor with a barely audible thump. Both Mr. and Mrs. Yomata looked at it for several seconds. Neither one of them moved, but their eyes regarded each other with a wary suspicion. Which of them would be the first to pounce?

Mr. Yomata.

He lunged forward, his hands reaching madly, desperately for the half-gone Snickers bar. His wife, hissing and spitting like a cat, shot into action then. She thrust forward for it as well, putting all of her measly 78 pounds of force behind the move. And she, being the quickest of the pair, reached it first. She snatched it up off the floor and took it to her bosom, laughing hysterically and singing high and off-key in a language only she could understand. But this brief moment of joy was short-lived. Blinded by animalistic rage and hunger, Mr. Yomata lunged at his wife and sank his rotten, yellowy teeth into her arm. Her scream was positively ear splitting. The Snickers drooped to the floor once more and this time it was Mr. Yomata who was taking it up in his hands. But Mrs. Yomata had already recovered and was hauling back, rearing to slap her hubby across the face.

Satoshi shook his head in bemusement as he closed the closet door shut on their childish squabbling. All that over a Snickers. And not even a whole Snickers, but half of a Snickers!

The poor dears.

It was all too perfect, really. The successful lawyer man and his happy homemaker wife – both so high and mighty, now brought low and humbled through the passage of years and the utilization of power. It served them right, the uppity pricks.

Oh how he hated them. Not that they were _bad_ parents, exactly. No, not that. Neither of them had ever battered their son. Neither of them had ever abused him physically or verbally or otherwise. They just weren't the same caliber person that Satoshi was. They weren't in the same league. They weren't enlightened enough for his taste. But even so, even through all the loathing and abhorrence he felt towards them, he still had to admit he was grateful toward them. His mother had been the vessel for his birth, hadn't she? And his father had provided the necessary sperm. So in those two instances, he felt something approaching a faint thankfulness toward Mom and Pop Yomata, but that was it. There existed no love between the three of them. None at all. Not anymore.

Satoshi left the hallway with a grin on his face and moved back inside his bedroom. Walking slowly but with purpose, he went over to his desk and opened the drawer. After shifting through various odds and ends (old papers, scissors, pencils and pens, an invitation to take the Infinity College entrance exam), he found what he was looking for. A photo. He took it in his hands and moved closer to the window so he could get a better look at the image. Though somewhat bent and with one corner torn off, it was still a perfect time-captured moment.

Soft moonlight played through the window blinds, making the people in the photo come to life. There was Satoshi himself, a year younger, standing at the edge of some massive, Olympic-size pool. He was clad in his blue, school-issued Juuban High swim team Speedos. Three gold medals hung from red ribbons around his neck. One for fastest freestyle, one for fastest butterfly, and one for …. for …. well, he couldn't really remember. Two old men (one of them - his coach, and the other he couldn't remember; the mayor, perhaps?) stood by on either side of him, their big suited arms hanging around his bare shoulders. The two old coots were flashing the peace sign at the camera. They were smiling. Everyone was smiling. He had just broken three school records. Everyone was smiling except the man himself. Satoshi. He was just standing there in the middle, stiff and wooden, looking like a piece of meat smashed between two hamburger buns.

The present-day Satoshi shook his head and tore the picture in half. The two halves fluttered to the floor like dying birds. He still remembered that day. He remembered it almost as clearly as he remembered the night The Master had first made contact. It was still so clear in his mind because that had been the day when he had proven his father wrong -his father who thought poor little Satoshi was just some science geek without a competitive bone in his body. Well, he'd been wrong. So very wrong. That was why Satoshi joined the swim team in the first place. He didn't hold any personal passion for the sport; he just wanted to prove that he could do it. That he could perform in a way his father would've been proud of. And in the end he had emerged triumphant. He had proven that he'd always held the ability; he just hadn't had the desire.

That day … the cheers and the pats on the back and the many "congratulations"… Too bad his parents hadn't been around to share in the joy.

He kicked the photo scraps under the bed and placed his hands atop the mahogany box atop the desk. The box with the serpent design etched in gold upon the lid. Holding his breath in excitement, he lifted the cover with a soft squeak. Three objects lay inside, resting upon its deep purple velvet interior. Three objects shimmering yellow, blue, and darkest black. With reverent fingers Satoshi took hold of the Venus Crystal and held it up against his cheek. So warm. With its swirling yellow glare, it was like a miniature sun. He replaced it after a time and withdrew the blue crystal. The Crystal of the planet Mercury. What an acquisition that had been. And how easy it had been to take it from its owner. Once he'd been alone with that Ami girl, it'd all been quite simple. A little evil-eye mind reading and suggestion and she'd handed it over just as eagerly as you please. Unfortunately he hadn't been able to delve into her psyche too much, time being what it was and all, but he'd gotten enough. He had found her weakness and played upon it. It seemed that Ami Mizuno felt hindered by her role as a Sailor Soldier. She felt her dream of becoming a doctor would never come to fruition.

Boohoo.

But the Mercury Crystal… Satoshi clasped it tightly in both hands, as if it were a bird that might fly away at any moment. It was cool to the touch. Borderline cold. And slightly moist, like a ball of ice that was just starting to melt. And if you peered inside its glassy faucets, you'd swear it was like looking into a snow globe, with tiny whirling snowflakes spinning around in the inside. Mesmerizing.

Beautiful though it was, it wasn't the _real_ gem of the collection. Satoshi gently placed the Mercury Crystal back upon the velvet cushion and took hold of the last object – a black shard, about four inches long. It was the same crystal fragment that had landed to earth as a meteorite those two years ago. Only back then it'd been so tiny, barely any bigger than a thumbtack. It had grown. It had doubled, tripled, no – _quadrupled_ in size! It was feeding of the two Sailor Crystals' energies, and increasing in power as well as in size. Such growth from only two Crystals. Imagine if it could feed off all eight of them – what an increase there would be then! Imagine if it had the opportunity to suck the life out of the Silver Crystal. Why, if it could do that, it would become the strongest crystal in the universe! The thought made Satoshi blanche with hope. Yes. He would capture the hated Moon Crystal and he would offer it up to The Master and his Crystal and then he would crush it. Shatter it. Destroy the stone of false hope forever.

And then he, his Master, and the Black Poison Crystal would rule over all.

Speaking of which…

Satoshi cupped his hands around the Black Poison Crystal and collapsed like a rag doll upon the floor. He tucked his legs underneath his body and closed his eyes. He slowed his breathing. He bade his heart to cease momentarily. He invited the nothingness. The silence.

"_Master, I seek an audience." _

The Crystal began to vibrate. Slowly at first.

"_Master, please look favorably upon your lowly servant."_

Blackness began to creep over the mere darkness of sightlessness and then Satoshi felt himself being lifted up - up and up and up into a world beyond this one – to a world where his Master held reign. Blackness enveloped everything. The scent of burning incense pervaded the air. Then there was the sudden dizzying sensation of his mind folding back in upon itself. The urge to vomit rose in his mouth, but he fought it back. It would be over soon enough. He was merely traveling through dimensions via the Black Poison Crystal's negative power to warp time-space. And while thoroughly unpleasant, it would be over in seconds.

_Servant._

There! Oh, he could hear The Master's sweet voice! Contact had been made once more!

Tears welled up behind Satoshi's closed eyes. This always got to him. Talking to The Master was like stumbling through a scorching desert, dying of thirst, and then suddenly coming upon a water fountain in the middle of nowhere. He could never get enough. It was always such a satisfying feeling, talking to him, and when their conversations were over, he always felt newly charged and ready to take on whatever challenges may lie ahead.

_The time draws near, servant._

_"Yes,"_ Satoshi answered back, in a voice most meek. _"I look forward to it."_

_The light of the White Moon has diminished. We must strike while they are weak!_

_"Yes."_

There was a terrible rumbling then, as if the cosmos itself had sighed. _But take a care, my servant. For I have not yet regained my former power. You will have to be my sword and shield. You are my last warrior._

_"And I will serve you 'till the end. And beyond."_

Another earthquake sigh. _My last warrior was such a disappointment._

Satoshi stiffened with pride. _I would never dream of disappointing you. _He meant it, too. The Master was his mother and father – the only thing that mattered. He had no idea what other kinds of people The Master had employed in the past, but it escaped him as to why anybody would go against his wishes. How often did you get the chance to serve a living, breathing deity? And serve he would. They were already in the final phases of the operation. Attention had been diverted away from him, the true enemy, via Shingo – the brother of Sailor Moon.

Ha. What a ruse that had been! He had always known that in order to infiltrate their group, he needed a scapegoat and he had simply picked Shingo at random. Maybe it was a little _too_ random and a little dangerous, choosing somebody so close to the core group member, but that was the beauty of it all! Sometimes things are just so random and so crazy that you simply have to believe in them. And the funny thing was the speed at which the others had latched on to the idea. All it took was him invading the mind of that miko chick and giving her a little push in the right direction. Then, to really solidify the charge, he had one of the droids assume the form of Shingo and attack Usagi in her sleep. It hadn't been successful (nobody had been killed), but that was really beside the point. The main objective had been for Usagi to see that it really _was_ her brother. And in that respect, the mission had been a rousing success. Having the eye on Shingo meant that Satoshi could operate in anonymity.

_"We will be successful,"_ he said. _"I know it. I have a feeling."_ He chuckled softly. _"I am the Wiseman, after all."_

_Yes, _The Master answered back. _And with the Black Poison Crystal and the power of that planet on your side-_

_"Nemesis,"_ Satoshi interrupted. It was a reflex reaction and he immediately apologized for butting in. _"The planet you speak of finally has a name. Nemesis."_

There was a rolling thunderclap of approval. _Very well. With those two things on your side, victory is certain._

And with that, he was gone. The Master had broken off contact once again. Satoshi arose from the floor, his legs a little stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. He replaced the Crystal back into its box and closed the lid. Something flashed suddenly and he glanced out the window. An early morning storm was brewing. Lightning illuminated the sleeping city below and in that fleeting flash of blue, he saw the earthquake ruins far off in the distance. So many days later and they had only just begun the cleaning-up process. It had been bad, that quake. A news piece from a few days ago declared it one of the worst to ever strike Tokyo. And the weird thing, the report had said, was that the devastation had been very localized – limited to only a few city blocks. But the damage to that little area had been cataclysmic and complete. Nary a building stood within that circle of destruction.

Satoshi had to smile at that thought. The earthquake was only a prelude. Worse things were coming. Things were going to change soon – and by "things", he meant the entire Earth. The entire solar system was going to be affected. This time the damage wouldn't be limited to a few streets and buildings. Everyone and everything, from the homeless drunkard to the wealthy businessman, was going to feel it this time. Losing wasn't an option, either. He had The Master's power on his side. He had the Black Poison Crystal and the planet of darkness Nemesis, too. And ….

He grinned. And a little something else. An ace up his sleeve that he was more than willing to bet on.

Yes. Soon. Before the end of the week, those of the White Moon kingdom would be dead and buried.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Michiru Kaioh, the world famous musician and artist, beloved by millions of fans the world over, sat in the still solidarity of her room and wept. Cold tears ran from the corner of each eye, leaving twin trail marks down the front of her face. She'd been sitting in the same position, in the same chair by the window, for who knew how long. Time crept at a sloth's pace. The hours and minutes and seconds dragged on and on, marking the passage of a day that Michiru didn't have the energy to enjoy. Behind the sheer lace curtains, the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, bathing the room with muted red hues. Beyond the door, she could hear the pitter patter of feet as her roommates preformed the early morning scatter routine. She could tell who was who from the sound alone.

The slow and unhurried footfalls there were Setsuna's, for example. Michiru listened as they passed by her bedroom and entered into the hall bath. Calm and unshakeable Setsuna, the reputable port in the storm. Out of the four of them, she was undoubtedly the most collected during the hectic morning hours. She woke promptly with the sun and rose immediately thereafter. No sleeping in late for her. She ate her breakfast slowly; enjoying every morsel, while the rest of the family orbited around her in a frantic fury of last-minute homework, forgotten keys, and other morning emergencies of varying seriousness. It was odd how, for someone as slow moving as she was, she was probably the most reliable of them all. Since working at the elementary school, she'd never went in late or missed a day (well, except for the time she'd been killed by Sailor Galaxia, but that really didn't count). Sometimes Michiru thought that her leisurely nature was something like an unspoken bit of advice to the rest of them – a subconscious suggestion to take it easy, to just relax and let things work themselves out.

Humph. Michiru wiped a stale tear from her cheek. Except sometimes things don't get better by themselves. Sometimes it took a human hand to straighten things out and make those things right again. And then, sometimes, things remained broken no matter how hard you tried to repair them. Things like … relationships.

Moaning, Michiru ran a hand through her hair. It had an old, crusty feel to it. She hadn't washed it in days. Hadn't _bathed_ in days. Doing so would bring back unwanted memories. Usually, after washing her hair, she would let Haruka dry it and comb it. One hundred and fifty strokes with the antique ivory brush. And sometimes, while in the tub, Haruka would come in and massage her feet and tell her about her day.

A warbling cry of anguish rose into the air and it took Michiru a while to realize the sob had escaped from her own mouth. She put a hand up to her forehead. She was losing it. She was really going crazy. Nutters. Bonkers. Loopy as a cuckoo-

More footsteps out in the hall. Only these were heavier. More like a man's. They shuffled down the corridor and paused abruptly outside Michiru's room.

Haruka.

Michiru could feel her jaw stiffen, her back straighten. Her lovely turquoise eyes narrowed in anger. _Don't even think about it._ She mouthed the unspoken order harshly at the unseen person on the other side of the door. _Open that door, and you_ will _regret it._

More shuffling, like someone was shifting their weight while standing in place. Then the doorknob began to turn.

_I do NOT want to talk to you. Go. Just go and leave me alone! _Michiru cringed and brought her knees up to her chest, as if she were preparing for a burglar's intrusion. As if Haruka was some kind of attacker.

Then the doorknob ceased its terrible rotation and Haruka's solid footfalls could be heard backing away and heading down the stairs. Maybe she had heard Michiru's thoughts and had elected to give her the space she needed. Couldn't lovers do that? If they were especially close, couldn't they read each other's minds? Perhaps. And there were no closer two people than she and Haruka. They were light and shadow, the sun and the moon. And like any other famous pair throughout history, there was no thinking of one without the other – Cleopatra and Mark Antony, Laverne and Shirley, Siegfried and Roy, Siskel and Ebert. Haruka and Michiru. Although….

Something wet trickled its way out of Michiru's nose and she wiped whatever it was against the backside of her hand. Uggh. She had lost it. It was official now. She had officially crossed over from merely "losing it" to "lost it."

Moving like a woman thirty years her senior, Michiru struggled to her feet. Joints popped and muscles protested. She'd been sitting in the same position for …. what, hours? _Days? _Too long, in any case. She moved across the large room and made her way to the adjacent bathroom, where she flipped on the light and closed the door behind her. She cringed against the sudden brightness of the wall sconces and had to squeeze her eyes shut for a few moments to become accustomed to the sudden transition.

When at last she felt like she could stand it, she opened her eyes – and nearly screamed. Someone else was in the room with her. A wretched-looking woman stood directly across from her, her mouth contorted into a half-suppressed shriek. Michiru gasped and backed away from the stranger, thudding backward into the wall in the process. The stranger did the same, mimicking every step and gesture. Panicking, Michiru had just squeezed off the words "Neptune Crystal Power", when she suddenly realized she was looking at her own reflection.

She rolled her eyes in a gesture of self-deprecation and sighed. The woman in the mirror did the same. Was that really her, though? Michiru carefully inched forward toward the glass, as if the creature on the other side could suddenly jump out from behind the glass patrician at any moment and grab her, pulling her into the Otherside forever. Stranger things had happened.

It didn't look like her. No, not the elegant lady fans saw when they purchased their Michiru Kaioh CD's. The woman reflected looked like some Hollywood nightmare. This woman's face had the look and consistency of playdough. Tired lines crisscrossed the areas beneath her pinched lips and droopy eyes. Her eyes, normally so clear and alive –two giant pools of jade, were now crusty and red from crying and lack of sleep. Her hair looked like frizzy clumps of dirty seaweed.

She looked a mess, in other words.

Perfect. What a morale-booster. Michiru snorted disgustedly and reached for a tissue. As she blew her nose, she came to a sudden realization. She had to get out of this situation she found herself in. She had to leave. Maybe then, after a break from all this, she could put things back together again. Unless of course, like Humpty Dumpty, it could never be fixed.

Whatever. She had to do _something_. Moping around and crying for days on end wasn't solving anything. She had to leave. But where? Where would she go? Well, there was the house in Bermuda, and the London flat, and, if she really wanted to law low and drop off the face of the planet, there was always the SoHo apartment. That sounded good. Yes. She could spend a little time in New York, mingle with fellow artists, forget her troubles… But the fact was, this house – this house nestled in the woods just outside city limits – was her home. Those other houses and apartments meant nothing. They held no memories. _This_ was where her life was. This was her life and Haruka, Setsuna, and Hotaru were her family.

Correction. Setsuna and Hotaru were her family. Haruka was nothing but a no-good womanizer. Once again, the familiar vision of Haruka and the Other Woman flashed to mind. Michiru couldn't remember that much about the Other Woman, but she did recall the way Haruka had laughed and smiled after offering her a ride. Oh how she had flirted! Little had she realized that Michiru had been watching them all along.

On the heels of that came that question again: "Why was this bothering her?" Haruka was a flirt. That wasn't news. So why, then, was this hurting her so badly? She must've asked herself this question a hundred times over without answer. This time was no different, either. She had no real reason to be angry, but she was, just the same. She felt betrayed. Here she had given Haruka her heart and she had taken it and smashed it, laughing as she did so.

Maybe that wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't fair to blame Haruka for being herself.

Now with the first true sense of purpose she'd felt in days, Michiru left the bathroom and pulled open the closet door, fishing out the luggage she used for trips abroad. It was a five-piece suitcase set of varying sizes, each done in the same darkened floral pattern, and she selected the biggest one. Blind hands reached up, grabbing clothes at random from their hangers. Work clothes, loungewear, evening gowns – into the bag they all went without rhyme or reason.

Her big closet wasn't even a quarter of the way cleaned out when she had to stop. The bulging suitcase simply couldn't take any more. Michiru forced the zipper all the way around the perimeter with some difficulty and then rolled it toward the bedroom door. Thank goodness it had wheels. It probably weighed at least fifty pounds. How had she ever managed during tour season?

The simple answer to that was that Haruka had always been there, carrying the luggage, taking care of the hotel check-ins, offering her her support in so many ways.

Tears threatened to fall, but Michiru pinched them back. There would be no more crying.

Okay. So. The packing had been taken care of. What next? What next? Money. Well, she would stop by the bank later and make a withdraw. Just enough for a one-way ticket to New York. So with those two things out of the way, that meant she was ready to be on her way. Michiru took hold of the doorknob and was just about to turn it, when her eyes fell on perhaps the most important thing she owned, laying facedown on the Maplewood secretaire.

The Deep Aqua Mirror. It's antique golden finish flashed in the sun's morning rays. How could she have forgotten it? Sighing, she made her way over to the desk, passing by glass keepsake knickknacks, old photos, and her cello. She didn't so much as glance at those things. Her talisman was much more important.

She reached out and picked it up, turning it over in the process, and was just about to turn away when something flashed in the mirror's reflected surface. Had it been her imagination? A trick of the light? No. She knew better. The Deep Aqua Mirror was a looking glass into the beyond. By gazing into its recesses, you could witness the past, present and the present, as well as other dimensions and realities. The object was a medium to another realm, and as such, it demanded respect – which meant that even though Michiru was in somewhat of a rush, she was obligated to listen.

Trying to clear her mind and put all ill thoughts of Haruka aside, she brought the mirror close. For a long time, she saw nothing. But then something moved, a dark figure dancing behind the glass. Michiru narrowed her eyes and brought it even closer. She would not loose the image.

It came. It was like pulling teeth, the most difficult scry she had ever preformed, but in the end, she was able to bring the vision to the surface. It flashed into view quickly and then –

_Krrrick!! _

The glass of the mirror suddenly snapped. A jagged broken line ran from the bottom portion to the top, dividing Michiru's face into two halves. The vision was gone.

Michiru continued to hold onto the mirror like a zombie. It had broken. The glass had broken. That … that had never happened before. What did it mean? Normally, it meant seven years' bad luck, but in this instance it was safe to assume worse. But no matter. She had seen what she needed to. Still somewhat shaky, she gently laid the injured talisman aside and transversed the room, making her way to the easel by the window. It was still fully supplied with paper, thank goodness. She wanted to go ahead and get the image down while it was still fresh in her mind.

Like she had done so many times before, she picked up a fresh piece of charcoal and began to sketch. Drawing relaxed her in a way nothing else did, save for making music. How many times had she sat there, drawing in this chair by the window – the moon serving as her only light? Night after night, it seemed, with Haruka as her favorite subject. But things were a little different now. For one thing, the sun was shining. For another, she wasn't relaxing at all. Tense fingers had the charcoal in a death-grip now and they flew across the blank paper in a black rush. Hurrying, but still attempting to get every detail down, Michiru drew faster and faster. The image unfolded before her like a series of time-lapsed photos. She couldn't stop. Not now. She was on a roll. Even if the house suddenly caught fire or she dropped dead from a heart attack, she imagined her hand would keep on going. Going and going until the picture was complete.

Then, after about five minutes' worth of sketching, the dust settled. Michiru sighed wearily and dropped the charcoal (which by now was nothing more than a stub) into the easel's tray. She regarded her creation. A face peered back at her from the paper, the same face she had seen in the mirror's reflection. With its strong, angular features and square jaw, it would've been a handsome face, had the beautiful almond eyes not been so cold and the lips not curved up into such a cruel smile. Michiru stared at the picture and shivered. She had replicated the vision perfectly, but something about that face bothered her – disturbed her on some primal level. She didn't recognize it, though, and for that, she was glad.

With that now out of the way, she took the large sheet of paper and rolled it up and stuck it under her arm. She passed by the secretaire, and then, on an afterthought, went back. She opened one of its drawers and took out some dainty rose-themed stationary and a fountain pen.

_Dear Haruka_, she wrote. _Certain things have come to light recently, and I've been doing a lot of thinking regarding each of them. I've come to a difficult decision and that decision is that I'm leaving. For how long, I don't know. Please do not follow me or try to contact me. I need time to myself for a while. Also, please believe me when I say it's not you, it's me. Take care. –Michiru. _

She frowned. It wasn't her best work. It sounded so distant, so formal – more like a letter of resignation than anything else. Still, it couldn't be helped.

Suitcase, mirror, and drawing in hand, Michiru stepped outside into the hall. She waited there for a moment before continuing on. If someone should spot her, her perfect escape would be ruined. Thankfully, nobody seemed to be around. So she continued down the stairs, holding her breath all the way down. The stairs deposited her near the parlor and she inched her way toward the door, preparing to place the letter on a table near the door. Surely Haruka would find it there.

"Ahem."

Michiru spun around, startled. Setsuna was there in the living room, sitting in a high wingback chair. A closed fashion magazine sat on her lap. Something else that could be said about her: she always seemed to pop up at the most inopportune time.

"S-Setsuna." Michiru felt her face go red. "What are you doing home? I thought you'd be a school."

The other woman got to her feet. "School's out. School's _been_ out for a few days now."

"Oh."

"It's nice to see you out and about again," Setsuna said warily.

Escape was so close – as close as the door. If she wanted to, Michiru could just bolt, leaving the unasked questions unanswered. But no. Setsuna was her family and she deserved a courteous goodbye, if not anything else.

"You've been a good friend," Michiru said as she enveloped Setsuna in an unexpected hug. "Give my love to Hotaru."

No reply. No reply but gentle hands caressing her dirty hair. Maybe she understood.

Then Michiru pulled back and was surprised to find herself crying. Was this really the end? Could she really just walk out that door without saying anything to Haruka - Haruka, who had been her partner, her soul, her perfect reflection since time immemorial? Indeed, they had been together for so long that she couldn't remember their first meeting. It just seemed like they had always known each other. But that couldn't be, could it? You could almost divide time into a pre-Haruka and post-Haruka era, with the "pre" seeming more and more unimportant and irrelevant as time goes by. Now that Haruka _was_ in her life, life without her was a frightening concept.

But she could face that fear. She would face it and emerge victorious. She had decided.

Michiru threw up her hand in one last goodbye gesture and reached for the door and then-

"Michiru? Where are you going?"

Oh, great. So much for her perfect escape.

Bracing herself for a huge confrontation, she turned and set eyes upon the exact person she hoped never to see again. "Hello, Haruka." The name came out cold and tasted unfamiliar.

She had apparently been hiding in the kitchen – waiting in the wings, you might say, until given the cue to reappear for the final act by God Himself. Such a thing wouldn't have surprised Michiru. Lately, if felt like everyone was against her in some way or another. The very stars seemed hostile toward her. And now here they were – she herself, Setsuna and Haruka. All the major players assembled for one last blowout climax before the final curtain call. Now if only Hotaru would wake up. That would make everything _peachy_.

"Do you have a tour or something?" Haruka asked, nodding toward the massive suitcase on the floor.

Oh, for the love of -! She knew very well she did not have a tour! It wasn't that time of year yet! Furthermore, didn't she notice the _lack_ of any kind of musical instrument among her luggage? Wouldn't that have been a major clue right there? Why couldn't everybody just skip the pleasantries and get right down to business? It would be so much less painful that way.

"No, I do not have a tour. I'm going away for a little while." There. It was out. The first step toward freedom had been taken.

Haruka looked at Setsuna, who offered no further explanation. "Going away for a vacation, or…."

Michiru shook her head. "I think you know."

"Oh." She seemed stunned, but did not ask for a reason. On some level, Michiru wanted to explain. She wanted to throw her things to the floor and point a finger in her ex-lover's face and accuse her to her face of the things she'd been thinking of for the past few days. She wanted to make a scene. She wanted to hurt Haruka the same way Haruka had hurt her. But she did none of those things. Even now, at the moment of truth, she was too much of a lady to lash out like that. It would be uncivilized.

Haruka blinked. Could it be? Was she trying to hold back tears? "Are you gonna take my car, or…"

"No. The Cadillac, I think."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well…" Haruka thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. She bowed her head as if in prayer. Sunlight bounced off her hair, making it appear a dazzling shade of pure white. "Do ya … do ya need any help with your luggage?" The question was chocked with – yes, tears.

And Michiru could feel the same thing happening to her. A thick lump had planted itself firmly in her throat. Here she was, telling Haruka that she was leaving –maybe for good – and what did she do? She actually offered to carry her things to the car. Such a gentleman. Even right up 'till the end.

She was already stepped forward, bending low at the waist to grab the suitcase – still looking down to avoid looking at anything else.

At that moment, Michiru felt as if she could forgive her for anything. She could actually feel the words of forgiveness traveling up her throat. What was the big deal? So what if Haruka had flirted with another girl? Was that such a terrible transgression? No. She couldn't help her nature. So what if she _was_ something of a flirt? She was also many other things. Kind. Gentle. Tough. Strong. Funny. And vulnerable. Michiru shook her head. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have even thought about leaving? They could work this out. Just the two of them. They could mend any broken fences together.

Haruka had grabbed the handle of the suitcase and was lifting it up off the ground when Michiru placed a cool hand on top of hers. The woman glanced up, her eyes brimming with tears. Hope was flickering behind those tears.

"I've got it," Michiru said, not unkindly.

Holding back any sign of outward emotion, Haruka nodded and stood up.

"Here." Michiru handed her letter over. "This explains everything." But did it? Did it explain _anything_? Probably not. It was just something you did. A common courtesy you extended toward somebody that was once special in your life, alerting them to the fact that you've moved on.

Haruka took the letter willingly enough.

There. Everything had been taken care of. Michiru opened the front door and sunlight flooded into the wooden parlor. Just a few steps were all it was going to take. A few feet toward freedom and happiness. She could see the forest beyond, with its shadowy nooks and the tops of its trees swaying in the wind.

"Oh." She turned back and handed the rolled up mystery portrait over to Haruka as well. "Here."

Now crying freely (something Michiru would have never believed had she not seen it firsthand), she asked, "What is it?"

And then, even before she knew what she was doing, Michiru kissed her lightly on the cheek. The smell of her cologne was almost overwhelming, but not in a repulsive way. It was a comforting aroma. Familiar, strong, and sad all at the same time. Cologne. Never perfume.

"The enemy."

And with those final words, she was out on the porch, having closed the door gently behind her. The air was fragrant, the skies overhead, a brilliant blue. As she traveled across the yard to the garage, she was tempted to look back and take one last glance at the life she was leaving behind. But she fought this urge. It didn't do any good to linger in the past. Her future was there, behind that wall of trees, beyond the forest there. Happiness and self-discovery awaited.

Two minutes later, a Cadillac roared to life and shot through a clearing in the forest, on a quest to find out if the grass really was greener on the other side.

…

"….who this is?!"

"Of course I know who this is."

"How can you be so calm about it?!"

"Just relax. We need to-"

Hotaru blinked and rolled onto her side, stuffing her fluffy feather-stuffed pillow into her face. Umm. Why did she have to wake up now? She had been having most _divine_ dream. In it, Satoshi had proposed. He had done it in the most unique way, too. He had rented this helicopter and offered Hotaru a ride, and when they were up in the air, he told her to look out the window. She did, and there were all these luminaries on the ground – thousands of them – spelling out the question to end all questions: "Will You Marry Me?" And then, well, that's when the dream got _really_ crazy-

"Is she still asleep?"

"Yes, but don't … No, don't!"

"This is serious!"

What was all that noise? Hotaru listened and recognized the hushed tones of Haruka and Setsuna. They were talking about her. They did that. They always said the most _interesting_ things about her when they thought she was asleep. The cowards.

Yawning, Hotaru flipped over on her stomach and tried to summon the dream up again. But it was too late. Like almost all dreams, it had already died in the early morning sun. …Wait a minute. _Early morning sun?_ Hotaru bolted upright and leapt from bed, picking up a wrinkled school uniform off from the floor and yanking it up over her head. She was going to be late for school! Why hadn't anyone woken her up? Now she was probably going to miss her first class! _And why couldn't she get her head through the friggin' neck opening?!?! _

She paused in mid-lunge. Oh. That's right. School had dismissed for the year. Hotaru breathed a sigh of relief as she stripped out of the uniform and pulled on a more comfortable outfit. _Silly me, forgetting that. _

Well, now that she didn't have to worry about school, she could focus her attention on more important things. Like what kind of lies Setsuna and Haruka were telling about her behind her back.

Moving as quietly as she could, Hotaru opened the door to her room and listened. They were still going at it. Something about "telling her" and how "this was serious". Haruka apparently wanted to "show her right away", while Setsuna favored a more passive approach to … whatever. They were arguing pretty heavily and Hotaru decided right then and there to put an end to it. She would just mosey down there herself and find out what she should or _should not_ be seeing.

She hated it when they talked behind her back like that.

And they were still discussing it right up until the time they saw her there on the stairs. Haruka had something like a big piece of paper in her hand and was making wild gestures at the passive-looking Setsuna, who was leaning up against the living room doorframe, shaking her head.

"She'll find all this out on her own. We shouldn't-"

"I'll find out _what_ on my own?" Hotaru asked, stepping forward, making her presence known.

They instantly clammed up. Of course they would now that they'd been _caught_.

Hotaru folded her arms across her chest, imbuing her tiny frame with a sense of authority. "What do I need to know? Don't go quiet now that I've showed up. Spill."

Haruka frowned and sighed. "Well…" She then handed the big sheet of paper to Hotaru after a few seconds' worth of consideration. "Who does that look like to you?"

Hotaru looked down at the drawing before her. At first she wasn't even sure that it _was_ a drawing. It actually looked like a black and white photo blown up to incredible size – it was that good. The attention to detail was amazing. Only one person could have produced such an image. "Did Michiru draw this?"

"Yes," Haruka said, visibly stiffening.

"She's gone isn't she?" Hotaru asked, keeping her eyes on the portrait.

"Yes." Haruka again. Her voice came out pinched.

"I'm sorry." Except she wasn't. That surprised her a little, though - the realization that she didn't care. After the death (murder) of her father, Michiru had stepped into the picture as the perfect loving mother figure. She had loved Hotaru like a daughter. And now she was gone, maybe for good, and the best emotion Hotaru could muster up was a rusty, rattling sense of vague regret. But other than that, she felt nothing. Nothing but indifference.

"Who does that look like?" Haruka asked again, in a rather blatant attempt at changing the subject.

Once again, Hotaru studied the drawing. There was no denying it. The resemblance was uncanny. The charcoal eyes looking out at her now were the same eyes she had fallen in love with that day in the school auditorium. "Satoshi," she answered back. She handed the drawing back to Haruka. "So?"

"_So_ Michiru drew this – drew this without ever seeing him."

Oh, geez. What was she going on about now? "Once again: so?"

"He's the enemy," Haruka said flatly. "The real enemy. Michiru told us so just before she … before she left."

Hotaru laughed. She laughed until she saw the unsmiling faces of Haruka and Setsuna staring back at her. "Okay, but…" She shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts. "But I thought Usagi's brother was the enemy. I don't …. I'm confused."

Stepping forward, Setsuna said, "And who was the one who put forth that theory in the first place?"

"Satoshi," Haruka replied, ever so helpful.

The anger began thudding dimly in the back of Hotaru's head like a dull bee sting. "And you're basing this on what? On a … on a…" Her face lost its control then. Her eyes shrunk into think slats. Her moth drew back, revealing teeth clenched in righteous fury. "_On a stupid doodle_?!"

"You know as well as I do that Michiru has a sense about these things. We can trust what she says."

It was the _way_ she said it that was so infuriating. She sounded so high and mighty – like she knew everything. Like she was talking down to her. And Hotaru couldn't stand that.

Now Setsuna had her hands on her shoulders in what was meant to be a comforting expression of motherhood. "Hotaru, I think it's time we told you everything."

"Everything", in this case, turned out to be a five-minute fairy tale about the absolute embodiment of evil – an evil that went by the name of "Wiseman". According to Setsuna's good word, this Wiseman character had been the leader of some kind of cult called "The Black Moon Clan" and had supposedly led an attack on 30th century Crystal Tokyo before being defeated by Sailor Moon. Oh! And the real kicker to the story was the Wiseman was actually the future version of Satoshi! Hotaru's Satoshi! Wasn't that a rip? Of course this all occurred before Hotaru joined up, so there was no real way to prove it all.

Now wasn't that a coincidence?

After listening like a good little girl to the crock being fed to her, Hotaru smiled sweetly and asked, "Are you finished now?"

Setsuna sighed. "You must believe me. It's the truth."

"Well, if it is the truth, you must've known about this all along. If Satoshi is this Wiseman guy, why didn't you call him out on it the first time you saw him? Hmm?"

"I…" Setsuna lowered her eyes. "I didn't want to disrupt the time-stream."

Uh huh. Hotaru rolled her eyes. When all else fails, blame the time-stream. "Okay. Sure. Let's suspend reality for a second here, shall we, just for the sake of argument. Say Satoshi is the Wiseman. Even if he is, you're judging him on things he hasn't done yet! You say he attacked Crystal Tokyo in the 30th century, right? Well, that's a thousand years into the future! And even if Satoshi is this really horrible, evil person, that's a thousand years to change!"

As she spoke, she felt a huge weight being lifted. She was standing up for herself for the first time in _years_. She was no longer afraid to speak her mind, to say what she wanted to say. Now, in the blink of an eye, she had cemented herself into the position of a better, stronger Hotaru. And it felt great.

"Maybe something happened to him in the future – some kind of traumatic event that warped his sense of good and evil," she went on. "But now I'm here and I can help him get through that and we can-"

_"Oh, just stop it!"_

Hotaru blinked in surprise. Haruka had finally lost her cool. She was standing across the way there, with her hands balled into fists. Her face was the shade of a turnip. Three giant steps forward was all it took for her to press herself into Hotaru's face. "Stop it, do you hear me? Stop trying to twist reality just so you can defend him! Your boyfriend's a bad guy, Hotaru. Hear me? A Bad Guy. Look around! He's already caused so many problems! Don't be stupid!"

Enraged beyond anything else she had ever felt before in her life, Hotaru quickly shot both hands forward. They connected against Haruka's broad chest with enough force to temporarily knock her off balance. The older woman took a few toppling steps backward as Setsuna ran up behind her to offer support. The looks in both of their eyes were ones of complete and utter shock.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" Hotaru sobbed. And thus was the cool, confident façade broken. "Let me tell you something! I've never had any friends of my own, okay?"

Setsuna opened her mouth to offer some lies of encouragement, but Hotaru cut her off before they came.

"I was a freak and an outcast at school! I thought I would have to live my life alone, without any friends. I had accepted that. And then Chibiusa popped into my life and I knew what it was like to be valued and appreciated. I finally had a friend for the first time in my life, and it felt great!" Hotaru wiped a hand across her eyes, wiping away the tears that were now falling in rivers. "But then she left! She went back to the 30th century and I was alone again! Don't you understand?! She was the only friend I ever had and then she disappeared and I was right back where I started!"

Haruka and Setsuna exchanged sorrowful looks. Did they understand now? Were they getting it? Frankly, Hotaru didn't much care either way. She was just glad to finally get all this out in the open.

"And then Satoshi came into my life just as I had given up hope again. And with him, I'm experiencing so much more! I'm finding out what it's like to be loved by someone! Finally! For the first time in my life! He loves me and I love him. Totally. I'd … I'd do anything for him." She lowered her head, exhausted.

"But that's just what I'm talking about, sweetie," Haruka offered. Her voice had taken on a softer, more comforting tone. "You only _think_ he loves you. He knew from the start that you were a Sailor Soldier and he latched onto you for that reason and that reason alone. He played upon your weakness and insecurities. That's what child molesters do. They pick out the weakest and most vulnerable-"

Hotaru threw back her head and laughed a laugh that was clogged with snot and tears. "So now he's a child molester! That's just great! That's just w-w-wonderful!!"

Setsuna reached for her.

She shrunk away, her eyes flashing fire and brimstone. "Don't you dare touch me! I know what you're trying to do! You and Haruka!" She turned her icy attention to Haruka. "Now that Michiru's left you, you think that if you can't be happy, nobody else should be, either! That's why you're trying to tear me and Satoshi apart! Jealousy! That's disgusting!"

The world was spinning. She felt sick. She needed to throw up. She couldn't breathe. Why had she come downstairs in the first place?

"Listen, Hotaru." Haruka again. "I know you must be feeling stupid, but don't. He tricked us all. I fell for his trap just like you did. I'm no better than you are, okay?"

"The only person being tricked here is me," Hotaru whispered. "And I've had enough. I can't stand it anymore. I really can't." She snapped her head up all of the sudden and pointed an angry finger straight at Haruka's face. "I hate you!" She pivoted around to Setsuna. "_And_ I hate you!" She spat the words out with liquid ferocity.

And before she clearly knew what she was doing, was heading for the door. She needed to get out. She couldn't stand to be cooped up inside that house of lies a moment longer.

Somebody called out her name. Either Haruka or Setsuna. It didn't matter which one. They were both the same.

"Die," Hotaru muttered without turning around.

And then she was out. She was running. Through the yard. Into the forest. Running. Crying. Running and crying all at once. It was impossible to truly put into words the various emotions flying through her head as she ran without a goal in mind. She certainly felt hate. Hate toward those two, yes, but also toward herself as well. She hated herself for not standing up to them sooner. All these years of oppression and not once did she have the strength to fight it.

Now she found herself in the city, which meant she must've been running for much longer than she thought. But still she did not stop. She had nobody. Only Satoshi. Haruka, Setsuna, Michiru … they were no better than her father. Behind the smiles and the hugs, the truth lurked. And now the truth had come out.

Hotaru wept freely as she ran through the dirty streets of Tokyo. At one time those three had been more than willing to kill her because they feared the awakening of Sailor Saturn, her other self. They had been all too willing to kill an innocent girl to prevent evil. And then she _had_ awoken as the Soldier of Destruction. Her other self had saved their lives and then, after that, she had been reborn as an infant – ready to experience life anew. And being the orphan that she was, those three had taken her in, pledging to love and raise her as parents would.

Wasn't it funny the way they had been able to move so easily between wanting to kill her and wanting to raise her as their own?

Oh, yeah. It was hilarious.

Hotaru stopped and looked around. She had no idea where she was. No, that wasn't quite true. Of one thing, she was certain. She was alone. Alone. Again.

…

Satoshi had just sat down for lunch when there came such a knocking at the front door that it shook the entire apartment with its force. In no mood to rush, he took his sweet time before answering. Finally, after the disposal of the dirty dish and glass into the sink, he made his way over to the door.

He peeked out through the peephole.

Well, well, well. Imagine that.

He opened the door and Hotaru plowed into him like a load of bricks. She was crying hysterically, the poor thing. Playing the role of the concerned boyfriend, Satoshi said not a word as he solemnly stroked her black hair. "Sssh," he whispered as he rested his chin atop her head. "Sssh."

Hotaru held onto him tightly and sobbed into his shirt. She then began to talk. It was hard to make out everything that was being said through the crying, but Satoshi understood enough of it.

"I-I-I-I had n-n-n-nowhere else to go! I'm sorry, I-I'm really sorry for barging in l-like this, _but I had nowhere else to go_!" A hiccupping fit made any further explanation impossible. Shivers ran through her body in waves.

"I-" (Hiccup.) "I'm sorry, but-" (Hiccup.) "They don't understand m-m-me and you're the on-only one that-" (Hiccup, hiccup.)

"You don't have to talk," Satoshi said. He gently placed his hands on her cheeks and forced her head up. "You're more than welcome to stay here for however long you want."

She did not respond in words. Her bright smile was answer enough. She smiled and then rammed her face back into his chest once more.

Satoshi patted her on the back reassuringly. He smiled and had to fight back laughter as he shut the apartment door. His ace had arrived.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Well? Do I look like a college student to-be?"

Luna frowned. She tilted her head this way and that way and squeezed her eyes halfway shut. Still, the image didn't improve. "Not particularly."

Usagi stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "Thanks. You are no help whatsoever. Now I know why they say _dogs_ are a man's best friend." She then turned back to the full-length closet mirror. Dressed in a blousy pink and white stripped shirt and tan-colored skirt, she looked fine. More than that, she felt fine. Really. She'd spent the night in her own bed and had gotten a good night's sleep. And with Shingo spending the night at a friend's (again) there had been nothing to worry about.

Yes. For now, Shingo did not exist. For now, there was no meteor of death hurtling towards the earth. For now, she was just an ordinary girl about to graduate high school. Just that.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

"Where are you going again?" asked Luna.

"I've told you a million times," Usagi said, smoothing out her skirt. "Graduation practice is today. At the school. Noon."

Luna purred. "Uh huh."

"And just what might you be implying?"

Again with the purr. The deceptive little kitten-like mewing that Usagi knew all too well. "Did I say anything? I don't think I said anything."

"Good," Usagi said, grabbing her purse. "Let's keep it that way."

She'd just made it out into the hall when Luna dashed between her feet, sending her into a near tumble. At the last minute, before a total face-plant into the carpet, she grabbed hold of the wall and regained some amount of balance. The crazy kitty. Usagi opened her mouth to commence with a full flip-out, but halted when she noticed the thing in Luna's mouth.

It was her end-of-year grades. The envelope in which they were sealed had not yet been opened. And there was good reason for that. Usagi had every reason to believe that she was failing at least two (probably three, possibly four) of her classes. It wasn't that big a deal to her (she already knew her future, and the Pythagorean theorem had no place in it) but she knew it would be a _very_ big deal to Ikuko Mama. That's why, ever since the last day of school, she had kept a very close eye on the mailbox. That's also why, when the wretched thing did arrive, she immediately hid it away in the one place she was sure her mother would never look – her underwear drawer. And there it had stayed until now.

Spitting the envelope out, Luna said, "Don't you think you should open this and find out whether or not you'll even be included in the graduation festivities?"

"Not really," Usagi said, continuing on.

"Ah. I see. Your plan is to just show up at practice and try to blend in – blending in _so_ much that you'll be able to waltz up on stage in a few days and receive a diploma with nobody being the wiser." Luna nodded. "Clever. Very clever."

Her ingenious plan shattered, Usagi stuck out her tongue. "Who asked you, anyway? You're a cat. What do you know about the human psyche?"

"Enough to know that your plan is not going to work, and, if we're being realistic here, you're probably going to _stay_ in high school for the rest of your life." And then the little fur ball was gone – disappearing around a corner on her way to the litter box or something.

Usagi sighed and picked the culmination of three years' worth of blood, sweat, and tears up off the floor. High school. What a letdown it'd been. Nothing but three years of all-night study sessions, projects, cramped classrooms, failing grades, and cranky teachers – all that and no fun. Back in middle school, it had seemed so mysterious, so glamorous, and now…. Well, now _college_ seemed mysterious and glamorous. But what if that turned out to be as big a dud as high school had been. Usagi had long ago come to the conclusion that education was just plain stupid. What was education, after all, but preparation for jobs? And why did people need jobs in the first place? _There should be a better system in place_, Usagi thought. _A system where you get food and treats and prizes (oh, and money, too) for doing nice deeds. That way, everybody's happy and provided for! _

Usagi walked back to her room and stuffed her grades back into their rightful spot – the underwear drawer. An economy based on good deeds and happiness! That would solve all the financial woes of the world! Sometimes she felt so smart. It was a rare occurrence, but when inspiration _did_ strike, Usagi felt large and in charge. Sometimes she wondered if maybe she was just as smart as Ami – albeit on a different level. Come to think of it, maybe that was why she had done so poorly at school. Didn't they say that gifted students, really gifted students, sometimes flunked out because they simply weren't being challenged enough? Sure! Maybe that was Usagi's problem; she just wasn't … being … provided with enough … challenges.

…. Okay, so it wasn't all that believable.

_Well, it's all going to end one way or another. _Usagi turned and was about to leave the room for the second time when her eyes happened upon her transformation brooch lying on the nightstand. Should she take it along? In the past, there would be no question about it. In the past, she carried it everywhere, lest there be an emergency that required Sailor Moon's expertise. But now it was nothing more than a gaudy accessory. Useless. Meaningless. The Silver Crystal had lost its shine. There really was no use in hauling it along all day.

But old habits died hard. Usagi snatched it from the nightstand and placed it in her skirt's pocket. The weight of it was somehow reassuring.

"You never know," she mumbled to herself as she left the Tsukino house in the dust. "You never know."

…

For the second day in a row, the weather was perfect. The temperature – a very agreeable 70 degrees. The forecast – sunny with no chance of the sudden freak rainstorms that had so plagued the region as of late. The sky was a brilliant shade of azure. The sun's rays warmed the city below, unencumbered by clouds. As far as the city itself was concerned, things were moving along splendidly. Now that the morning rush hour craze had passed, the streets were considerably less congested. All those lucky enough to have jobs were tucked away safely in their high-rise skyscrapers of steel and glass. Those with no job but with the disposable income to spare (the retirees) browsed the shops that lined the streets, window-shopping mostly, and commenting to anybody who would listen about "How nice the weather was!" Kids fresh out of school for vacation, and giddy with their newfound freedom, plowed through the town, hanging out of car windows, running like madmen down the streets, hollering and screaming their joy that school was finally _over!_ At least for the next few months. Tourists from a dozen different countries fumbled their way through the maze of nose and neon that was Tokyo. These people were easily distinguishable from the rest of society due to their frequent pausing at street signs to check their English/Spanish/French/German/Chinese to Japanese reference books, and their penchant for actually obeying crossing signals.

Birds sang. The wind blew. The earth turned.

It was March 23rd.

Later, this date would be forever ingrained within the hearts and minds of not only the Japanese people, but of the entire world. From Japan to England, from England to America, and from America to the tropical rainforests of the Congo, there would not be a soul alive on March the 25th who did not know of the events that would transpire here within the next few hours. When the people of the earth awoke on March 23rd, little did they suspect the change that was coming. A new age was drawing near.

Drawing near, but as of 11:30, not here yet.

Satoshi could feel it, though. Revolution provided the air like the scent of rain before a storm. And like a storm, this change would be violent. It could be no other way. Do not mothers experience pain during the birthing process? Pain existed alongside new beginnings. It would take effort to change those things which the public regarded as eternal institutions. Society. Culture. Political institutions. It would take sacrifice. But he was ready and willing.

From the observational deck of the Tokyo Metropolitan Building (the city's tallest), Satoshi had an unobstructed panoramic view of the city. It seemed to go on forever, stretching yonder and wide, this high-tech metropolis. Though beautiful in terms of its new millennium architecture, Satoshi recognized it for what it was. A glitzy cage. A cage that the people themselves had constructed around themselves.

A cage that would soon be opened. Satoshi turned away from the glass and to the droid standing before him. "Put out your hand."

The golem did so. Though lacking in terms of speech, they did have the capacity to understand orders. They could also think, but only to the extent where they would carry out their orders in the most efficient way. It was best that way. Satoshi liked them, preferred them over, say, willing human volunteers. Humans, no matter how dedicated to a cause, always got jittery upon hearing that word "sacrifice'. Not droids. They just went about their jobs without a word. No fuss. No mess.

Satoshi reached a hand into his pants' pocket and withdrew a tiny, black sliver of rock. Paper-thin and measuring no more than one inch in length, even this much of Black Poison Crystal was dangerous. If he happened to drop it by accident, there was a good chance that the entire building would explode. So carefully, _very_ carefully, he handed the sliver over to the droid, who took it with equal caution. "You understand your orders?"

Nod, nod.

"Good. Go quickly but carefully. Don't drop it beforehand."

Shake, shake.

Satoshi nodded with satisfaction as the loyal servant departed. It made its way through the milling visitors (who saw not a bit of this or the previous conversation; Satoshi had masked their presence to them – to the naked eye, the two of them had probably appeared to be nothing more than two buzzing flies) and was gone from sight.

Now the work began. This was the strategic part of the plan. The fun would come later. Five droids had been assigned to the five closest police stations. The sixth, the one Satoshi had given the crystal shard to, was to gain entry into the Imperial Palace by taking on the appearance of a grounds guardsman. Of course this was going to prove a challenge (a challenge, but not an especially difficult challenge) since a uniform was going to be required. The droid would have to kill a guard, take his uniform, and then assume his identity if it had any hope of entering the secured area undetected. Satoshi vaguely wished there was some way the droids' clothing could change just as their sandy skin did. Maybe he would work on that aspect after he had conquered the city. In any case, the five others would wait until the sixth had assumed its position and then – Kaboom – they would each detonate sequentially.

What a marvelous series of explosions there would be! Upon the telepathic order, each droid would detonate itself, thereby unleashing the destructive Black Poison Crystal power that had so imbued them with the power to walk and shape shift. However, the damage radius was fairly limited, so that was why he had sanded off a shard of the Crystal and had given it to the droid assigned to Palace duty. Since the Imperial Palace was actually a complex of many buildings scattered over a wide area, the normal self-destruct blast would only cover a portion of the grounds. The power of the crystal sliver and the droid's own detonation would not only take out all the Imperial Residences, but also a quarter of the city.

Still invisible to the others, Satoshi slid to the floor and took out the crystal ball that Hotaru had given him as a gift a few days ago. It really was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship. Add that to the fact that over the past few days, he had learned how to channel his visions so that he could actually view them like a movie through the glass, and it was a piece he could not bear to part with. Tapping his fingers along the spherical molded crystal, he couldn't help but go over the unforeseen possibilities that might arise. Suppose the Emperor and his family weren't at home. Suppose that, for whatever reason, the droids didn't make it to their destination. Suppose the Sailor Soldiers stuck their noises into things and ruined the plan before it could even get off the ground.

These fears ran through Satoshi's mind like a parade out of control. Each scenario of failure worried him. It worried him because he was acting as The Master's emissary. To fail would be to fail The Master – the only one who had shown respect and love for him in the first place. And he was The Master's last chance. The last warrior. He would not fail. Those fears were completely without warrant. The Emperor _was_ home. Him and the entire Imperial Family. Satoshi had confirmed it via the Internet weeks in advance. They were making a brief stop home before leaving for Shikoku the following day. The droids would not be stopped. They had the ability to look like anyone, which meant they could easily blend in with the rest of the city's teeming millions, no problem. And they certainly wouldn't be acting in such a way as to alert attention to themselves.

That left the matter with the Sailor Soldiers to contend with.

They wouldn't pose a threat. At least not in this early stage. The jig with Shingo seemed to be up, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Even if they knew his true identity, they didn't know when or where he was going to strike. They didn't know the plan. Besides, with two of them unable to transform (that annoying Minako girl and the poor pathetic girl genius of Juuban High), their power as a team would be seriously compromised.

Smiling, his fear of failure vanishing quickly, Satoshi gazed into his crystal ball. Time for a check-up. He stared deeply into the orb's reflective surface and concentrated. Deeper and deeper. Slowly, ever so slowly, the glass fogged over. Then designs began to form in the cool mist covering. They were simply squiggles at first, resembling a preschooler's attempt at drawing, but soon became more complex. They took shape and form and eventually became fully realized, full-color, moving images.

He saw them all.

Droid number one had taken on the appearance of a fat, middle-aged man and was resting on a bright orange plastic chair in the first police office lobby. Officers in uniform and others walked right past, unknowing that in a few minutes, they would be completely atomized.

Droid number two had made it to its station in the guise of a frail-looking old lady with her hair up in a bun.

Droid Three was now a shy-looking teenage boy with a face full of acne.

Number four was a beautiful woman with flowing red hair.

By all outward appearances, number five was a little girl with her blonde hair done up in braids, looking for her mommy.

And number six….

Ah. Satoshi saw it quite clearly within the glass. Droid Six had already succeeded in one of its missions – namely the killing of the guard. Satoshi watched as the droid stripped the unfortunate individual of his uniform. Then, after disposal of the body into some nearby shrubbery, Number Six became the guard – uniform and all. Satoshi watched as the robot entered into the Imperial grounds with no problem at all.

Nobody said anything. Nobody made any move to stop any one of the six.

Satoshi shook his head in macabre amusement. It was like they were ready to die, those people in the police stations, the guards at the Palace.

_Now._ Satoshi backed the thought with strength and iron, making it clear that now there was no turning back.

The explosions occurred within seconds of each other. Five of them, each one strong and resonant. _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! _The first went largely unnoticed by the observation deck visitors, but by the fifth, they were screaming and converging en mass by the windows, pointing to the black plumes of smoke arising beyond. Satoshi did not look with them. Instead he kept his gaze on the crystal ball. He watched the droid in the guard uniform take hold of the Black Poison Crystal shard. He watched as the eyes of the "guard" closed, as if in heavy thought, and the shard drop from its hands. It turned gracefully on the way down to the ground, a twinkling edge of utter blackness. Once. Twice. And then-

The flash came first. White, dazzling, and utterly magnificent, the sheer radiance of it forced Satoshi to turn away. He felt the Tokyo Metropolitan Building, all 48 stories of it, lurch beneath him in one sudden forward movement. The screaming tourists around him grew quiet for a moment as they struggled to keep their balance. And then came the _sound_ of the explosion. Traveling a full four seconds after the fact, it slammed into the air with the force of a stampeding bull. _KA-CHOOOOOM!!!!!!!!! _It was positively deafening. It blotted out all else. The observation deck windows shattered and blew outward in a chain of sparkles. Frightened mouths opened in silent screams. But for the moment, nothing else could be heard. Nothing but the sound of the still-continuing explosion. Moving quickly, not wanting to miss one beautiful second, Satoshi jumped up off the floor and ran to the far end of the now open-air observatory.

There was nothing left of the Imperial Palace. It and the area surrounding had been decimated. The grounds were now engulfed by devastation. It reached toward the sky in twisting darkness, that glorious pillar of smoke and purple flame, and Satoshi could not help but marvel at the size of the cloud. It looked like a massive kilometer-wide tornado. Bits of debris floated down from the sky. Splinters of wood. Pieces of bent metal. That was all that remained of the Palace.

Satisfied beyond human measure, Satoshi left his screeching neighbors behind. He scooped up his crystal ball in both hands and walked leisurely toward the stairwell. You were always supposed to take the stairs in case of emergencies, weren't you?

By the time he made it outside, sirens had replaced the sound of the explosion. He shook his head sadly as he met up with his associate. Didn't they realize they weren't going to find anybody? There was no one to help.

His little helper shrugged as if anticipating the question and then helped him into a robe of deepest violet. Satoshi swelled with pride as the hood of the robe was brought down over his head. A ring of opal was slid onto his right middle finger. These were his vestments.

The flashing lights of ambulances and fire trucks could be seen now off in the distance.

Yes. Things were coming along quite nicely. But there was still one more stop he had to make before the _real_ fireworks began.

…

Even though she knew it was end-of-year vacation, Usagi still couldn't get over the sight of the school standing near empty on a week day. A few fellow seniors milled about outside, dressed not in uniform but in their everyday fashions. Usagi waved and smiled to the few she knew (pretending not to notice the confused looks they shot her) and walked right into the place. A posted sign near the front door grouped the seniors together by last name and instructed them on where to head next. Near the bottom of the sheet were the words: "Practice Starts At 12:00 Sharp! Don't Be Late!!"

Usagi checked the clock hanging over the front desk. Wow. She'd made it with _fifteen_ whole minutes to spare! She checked the post once more to confirm her destination and set off down a branching hallway. Room 3-11.

"Usagi? Uh… What are you doing here?"

"Howdy-ho! Good to see you, Naru!" Usagi greeted, plopping down into a nearby chair.

The other girl offered a half-smile and ran a hand through her curly red hair. "I'm a little surprised to see ya here. With your grades and all…. Well, I wasn't sure you'd be able to… Uh…." She searched for the right word. "To make it."

Usagi blinked. Best to play it cool. "Whatever do you mean?"

Naru waved a hand through the air. "Never mind."

The minutes ticked by. Conversation rose and fell. Usagi sighed. No wonder she hardly ever made it to class on time before. If you were early, you'd have to sit and wait and be bored for half an hour until the teacher showed up. Coming in a little later meant you could just take a seat and charge right into the day's lesson. Of course you'd have to stay after the bell if you chose that particular path, but it was a whole lot better than waking up at 7 each day.

_I'm hunnnnnnnnngry_. Usagi grabbed her stomach and collapsed over the top of a desk. When was this shindig going to start? And where were the snacks at? Did they actually expect her to cooperate when there weren't any snacks? Weren't there supposed to be snacks?

She had just begun to drift into a hunger-induced coma when-

"Usagi? Usagi, wake up!" Somebody was shaking her.

"Hmmm?"

"Wake up! Now!"

With a yawn and a stretch, Usagi did. Ami (the only one wearing her school uniform), Makoto, and Minako were standing around her. Each had an expression of utmost seriousness carved onto their faces. Seeing those faces sent Usagi's heart racing. Something had happened.

"Where _have_ you been?!" Minako hissed. "We've been trying to contact you on the communicator!"

The communicator? Usagi brushed a hand against her wrist. Bare. "Oh. Sorry." She swallowed. "Is something wrong?" _Don't answer that_, she thought. _I know there is._

"We've got new information," Ami said. She looked around suspiciously in a way that would've been funny at another time. "We just received word from Haruka and Setsuna, and-"

"Satoshi is the Wiseman!" Minako blurted. Her blue eyes had transformed into saucers.

Ami shushed her loudly. "That's the word."

What? Usagi leaned back in her chair. Satoshi the Wiseman? It really didn't surprise her for some reason. Maybe because she never really believed Shingo was? Even when "he" was attacking her, she still couldn't… _Shingo! _Usagi turned a judging eye to Makoto. She'd heard about the little scuffle between the two of them. How did that make her feel? Was she sorry for beating up on an innocent boy now?

Apparently so, for the other girl broke off eye contact quickly.

"Why wasn't I told sooner?"

"Um, _hello_! You left your communicator behind!" Minako cried. "We would've called you, but they just contacted us a little while ago. Apparently…" She lowered her voice. "Apparently, Hotaru's gone missing."

"Missing?" Usagi leaned forward. "Is she hurt?" _You better believe it_, a part of her mind spoke up_. Remember? Remember her and Satoshi at the fruit parlor the other day? Remember how happy they were together? How in love? _A feeling of sickness washed over her at this thought. Satoshi was Hotaru's boyfriend. If he was the Wiseman, that could only mean she was in danger. In danger from him. A vision of a bound and gagged Hotaru rose to mind like flotsam rising to the surface of a darkened ocean. "We've got to do something!"

She was already up out of her seat, but Makoto gently pushed her back. "Haruka and Setsuna are already looking. If they can't find her, what makes you think we can?"

"Anyway, we don't know she's in danger. Her disappearance in relation to the discovery of Satoshi's identity could very well be a coincidence."

Usagi stared open-mouthed at Ami. Did she really bereave that? With her logical mind and expert statistical analysis methods, did she honestly think Hotaru _wasn't_ in danger? Even a clueless dork like Usagi could see beyond that. "You all can just sit around here if you want, but I'm gonna look for her."

Ami was just about to try another persuasion technique, when –

_BOOM!_

All manner of conversation ceased abruptly. Heads snapped upward at the sound of what seemed like a far-off thunderclap. A few students began walking slowly toward the class' windows. A thunderstorm? It was a sunny day… A decent sized crowd had gathered at the far side of the room, straining to see anything of importance.

It happened again. Four more explosions in quick succession. _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! _By the fifth of these, the crowd had totally dissipated. They were now huddled in a corner screaming. Usagi flung herself toward the window, brushing off the grabbing hands of her friends. She had to see. Something serious was going on. She could feel it in her heart.

She had just placed her hands against the glass of the window and was looking out when the outside world suddenly vanished. The sky, the buildings – everything was gone in one soundless, flash of light. A nuclear explosion. Usagi was suddenly quite sure of this. Not really aware, she found herself backing up from the rectangle of light that had been the window and covering her face with her arms. The shock wave would come first, blowing apart buildings and uprooting trees. Then the burning sensation would start as that wall of fire came rushing toward you, and you'd feel your skin sizzling and popping and-

_KA-CHOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!_

The high school shifted in its foundation. Lights flickered on and off in a maddening display. Bits of dust and plaster fell down from the ceiling, striking several students on the head. Usagi felt her throat contract in a scream. Her scream mixed with others until the entire classroom became one yelping pit of terror. She felt someone heavy collide into to her and knock her to the floor. Her jaw impacted with the tile floor hard.

"Stay down!" Makoto.

Usagi's heart skipped a beat. "What's happening? What's go-"

"I dunno! Just stay down!"

Makoto acted as a human shield for Usagi as the explosion continued. Plaster rained down upon the room's shrieking populace like huge and heavy snowflakes. A fluorescent light came undone from its fixture and fell to the floor in a series of sparks. The screams continued. Everywhere around her, Usagi could hear the girls' high squealing mingled in with the deep roaring of the boys. Screams, screams everywhere. All from people too young to die.

For some reason, the faces of her parents flashed to mind. She pictured them huddled together in a hall closet, the house falling in around them. And then there was Shingo. Shingo who had been falsely accused and was now somewhere out there yelping and screaming like everyone else. Her family was in danger. The entire city, really, but her family took precedence right now.

She struggled under Makoto's weight. "Let me go! I have to go!"

Makoto waited about doing anything until the last of the eruptions had weakened into a mild thudding. Then she got to her feet and helped Usagi up. Off in the distance, Minako and Ami were bracing themselves against a cracked wall. Further back, Naru could be seen lying on her belly. Her eyes scoured the room, looking for a friendly face to explain just what was going on and for friendly hands to help her back up.

Usagi looked away. She couldn't waste any time. She had to get back home. "I've got to go."

She worried that Makoto would try to talk her out of it. That would be the sensible thing to do – with her not being able to transform and all. And if that happened, Usagi had decided she was just going to push her way through. And if she still insisted on stopping her, then, well, it might come to blows. She knew she had no chance of winning in a physical match against the taller, stronger girl, but she would not be stopped. The feeling of unease growing in her heart overrode reason.

But Makoto made no move to stop her. Instead, she took Usagi's elbow and actually led her to the door. Ami and Minako looked at the two of them.

"Home," was all Usagi could muster.

Minako nodded. "Okay. Go. I'll stay here and try to keep everyone calm." But the look in her eyes suggested that she was just as _un_-calm as everyone else.

"I'll be at the hospital," Ami said. "I have a feeling it'll be packed."

Usagi nodded quickly and turned a worried face to Makoto. She could feel time slipping away. Something was nagging at her – tugging at her to get home as fast as she could. "Mako-chan?"

"I'm coming with you."

"No. I need to go by myself." And that was true. Why she knew this, she wasn't sure. But a part of her knew that she was being led home to find something. And whatever she was going to find would be a private matter. A family matter. Besides, if Shingo were home, he probably wouldn't be too keen on another meeting with the girl who had almost kicked his skull in.

Makoto stepped forward, shaking her head.

"Don't worry about me, okay?" Usagi tried something that she hoped was a smile. "Go with Ami or go your own way to see if anyone on the street needs help. Out of the four of us, you're the only one that can transform."

"Fine."

That sense of uneasiness was greater now than ever. Usagi cast one last frantic look back at the classroom … and locked eyes with Naru. She had evidently helped herself up and was now standing square and center in the middle of the ruined classroom. Tiny bits of rubble were caught in her hair. Her tiny mouth was open in an expression of bewilderment. Both her hands were clasped tight against her bosom. Standing there, she looked so innocent. Usagi felt tears build up behind her eyes as she took in the sight of her friend. Before she became Sailor Moon, Naru Osaka had been her best friend. They had spent countless hours at each other's houses back in middle school, staying up the whole night long playing video games, watching TV, or just gossiping about boys. Then Luna came into the picture and along with her came a more complicated world. A world where monsters were real and the only thing in the way of defense were the fabled sailor-suited Sailor Soldiers. After that, a void developed between Usagi and Naru. They had continued to speak with each other and still spent the night at each other's house occasionally, but things were different. New faces had emerged as new friends – Ami, Rei, Makoto, Minako, Mamoru…. The more Usagi had identified with her role as Sailor Moon, the more Naru faded away into obscurity.

But here she was now, looking frail and perplexed as other students scattered around her, screaming and hollering. As Usagi looked at her, she felt _such_ anger toward Satoshi. Naru represented all the innocents – all those who had no idea of the bigger picture, all those who had simply been swept up into a game they hadn't even know they'd been playing. Why was Satoshi attacking the city, killing innocents, when he was really after the Sailor Soldiers?

_Time. Time!_

Right. Usagi turned from Naru and was aware of her name being called. "Usagi! Usagi!" A plea, almost. But she paid it no mind.

Like a flash, she, Ami and Makoto were out in the hall. Teachers dashed about, looking no more authoritative than their students. One of them, a sweaty middle-aged man wearing a rather obnoxious red and purple tie, yelled at them to "Stop! Stop right there and return to your rooms!" But he wasn't too concerned for their safety since he dashed right on past them without a second glance. A few meters away were the front entrance doors – the glass in them cracked and shattered from taking the full impact of the explosion shockwave moments before.

Sulfur and smoke hung thick in the air outside. Car alarms shouted burglary incessantly to the sky above. Far off in the distance, Usagi could make out three distinct plumes of smoke rising above the city and one fatter black cloud a little ways off to the right. Two other fires raged at two different locations behind the school. Usagi felt her knees weaken, but she still kept on. She had to get home. And fast. But it would be a long run.

A few bikes could be seen nestled in the bike-racks in front of the school, happily unchained and unguarded, but Usagi rushed past them. Even now, running in this haze of dread, she couldn't steal them. Stealing was wrong. And maybe part of her didn't want to get home any quicker. Part of her knew it was already too late.

So onward they all ran – Usagi, Ami, and Makoto. Then it was just Usagi and Makoto. Ami had splintered off from the main group on her way to the university hospital. Usagi saw her as a darkened speck racing down a side street and thought after her: _Be safe, Ami. Please be safe. _Then Makoto, who had been merely keeping step with the slower Usagi, asked, "You'll be okay?"

Usagi nodded, looking straight ahead. She felt a pat on the shoulder and then it was just her as the other girl went off in her own direction.

Every day she had walked this path to school on foot, but now it seemed to be taking much longer. Her lungs felt heavily lined with the smoke she'd been inhaling. Her eyes itched and watered, streaming tears down her cheeks. But still she continued to run, her two long blonde pigtails flapping out behind her like undone sails. It occurred to her as she ran home that she was running in the opposite direction as everyone else. All around, people were either standing still with their hands over the mouths in stupid surprise, or were running madly away from the center of town like crazed cattle. Out in the street, traffic had come to a standstill. Car windows rolled down and heads were extended through to catch a glimpse of whatever had just happened. Ambulances and fire trucks zoomed past in a blur of red and a squeal of sirens.

It hurt to run. It hurt in her legs, in her hips, and deep within her protesting lungs. She couldn't go on. With all the smoke she was gulping down, it simply hurt too much. Then she became aware of the transformation brooch's heaviness weighing down her skirt, and she grabbed for it. Having it in her palms, holding it, made her feel stronger. The crescent moon anchoring the bottom of the heart-shape, the three pearl-studded wing petals on each side – looking at it gave her the strength to go on.

She shook her head, clearing away any smoke-induced sleepiness and kept on. About halfway home, she came to a grinding halt as all the people around her cried out in unison and pointed to the sky. Car doors opened and dished out their occupants, who joined the others in gazing up. Usagi then realized it was getting dark, as if a cloud had drifted over the sun. But it'd been a cloudless day. And it was _way_ too early for dusk yet. Without really wanting to, Usagi turned around.

It _was_ getting darker, but not because of any cloud movement. Instead, the sun itself was growing dimmer. But not just dimmer. It was being chipped away at. _An eclipse of some kind. _That was Usagi's first thought, but one that she quickly dismissed. There would've been an announcement in the news about such a thing. And it didn't look like anything was moving in front of the sun. Like an eye closing, the darkness seeped in from the outward edges, moving inward.

Like a cancer, the ugly blackness spread until the sun was nothing more than a cold black marble floating in space. And without it's light, the city was immediately plunged into total darkness.

The people on the street _ooed _collectively as if appreciating a fine magician's trick. Usagi shivered wildly. The oppressive darkness had a weight to it. Usagi felt she would've stood there forever, looking up at the sudden night sky, if the automated streetlights hadn't blinked to life shortly thereafter. Snapped out of her daze, she grasped the Eternal Moon Article tightly in both hands and shoved her way through the spellbound pedestrians. Still guided by that invisible compass pulling her home, she closed her eyes and continued to run. She knew the path well enough.

But what would be waiting for her at home? And how would she handle it?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Even before stepping inside the house, Usagi knew things weren't quite right. The wide-open front door was a major clue. Ikuko Mama would never ever leave the door open like that. _"You're letting the heat / air out!"_ How many times had she heard that line before? Ikuko Mama had always been worried about the electric bills…

_Had _been?

Holding her breath, trying to force away the relentless negative thoughts, Usagi approached the dark shadow that was her house and stepped over the threshold. Once inside, without bothering to flip on the lights, she took a brief scan around. Nothing out of place so far. Two sets of shoes rested there by the door – Ikuko Mama's sensible flats (the ones she wore for her supermarket conquests on Tuesdays) and Kenji Papa's nondescript brown loafers. Seeing them there by the door meant that they were inside the house somewhere. Who goes out in the street barefoot?

Feeling somewhat better, Usagi moved down the short entrance corridor. "Mama? Papa?"

No answer. Still, that didn't prove anything. Maybe they were upstairs in their bedroom watching TV. Moving in that direction, Usagi called out again. Nothing. She came to the base of the stairs and looked up into the blackness. As she did so, she wondered why all the lights were off. She had noticed that from out in the street. All the others houses were illuminated save the Tsukino residence. Surely somebody would've turned them on by now.

"Mama? Papa?"

Nothing. Nothing at all. No answer. Why was there no answer?

It was a little too much like the setup for a horror movie – the dark house, the ominous silence pervading all throughout. Soon Michael Myers would pop out from around some corner, raising his knife in the air before plunging it down upon Usagi's tiny, unsuspecting frame.

There were only two rooms left to check out on the ground floor. The kitchen and the living room. So that's where she headed – the kitchen. She doubled back down the black hall and entered inside.

What she saw there destroyed any lingering hope for her parents' safety. The place was in shambles. Dining chairs lay scattered pell-mell across the room in uncharacteristic disarray. The kitchen table itself (the same table the Tsukino family ate breakfast around every morning – well, on those mornings that Usagi wasn't late for school, anyway) had been knocked over by a very powerful hand, and now rested on its side, blocking the way to the living room. A vase of freshly cut flowers was in pieces against the tile floor, its floral contents scattered about in a puddle of water. Several cabinets had been pulled out from their slots for some reason, leaving silverware scattered about. And there was something else …. lying on the floor there, next to one overturned chair.

Usagi felt her legs moving on their own. _No,_ she ordered. _Stop. Stop! I don't want to see! _And she didn't. Something terrible had transpired in this room, some sudden and violent attack. Against her parents. _Don't jump to conclusions_, the rational, albeit delusional part of her mind said. _Maybe they panicked when the sun went out and made a mess of things. Mom's probably getting the vacuum out of the closet right now to straighten everything up. _Yeah, but how did you explain the overturned table? Knocking over a little chair in a rush of surprise was one thing, but the table looked as though it had been _hurled_ across the room. Kenji-Papa, while certainly not out of shape, wasn't

capable of that kind of strength, and if _he_ couldn't do it, Ikuko-Mama couldn't, either.

_I'm dreaming_, Usagi thought as her legs drove her inside the kitchen. She found herself being led to that mysterious object on the floor. _I'm dreaming. My parents are fine. _Now her knees buckled outward and she found herself sinking to the floor. Down she went. So smoothly. As if in a dream. Because that's what it was.

It took an absurdly long time for her eyes to register what she was seeing, but when everything did click into place, her vision immediately went blurry with tears. The small object on the floor was in fact a pair of glasses. Large-lensed and wire-rimmed. Bifocals. Usagi took hold of one scooped earpiece and brought it close. One lens, the right one, was cracked – the glass broken in a starburst pattern.

They were Kenji-Papa's. He wore them all the time.

Usagi clasped them to her chest. She pictured an intruder (_Satoshi_, her mind whispered) breaking into the house, and her father standing guard over her terrified mother. He would've put up a fight. Usagi then pictured the ensuing scuffle between the intruder (_Satoshi_) and her father, culminating with Kenji-Papa being backhanded across the face, his glasses flying across the room, breaking…

Usagi shook her head violently back and forth, and in the process, settled her sights on another interesting clue. Wound against one of the overturned chair's legs, was a strand of long, curly hair. The tiny hair had a kind of faint purple tint to it, even in the darkness. Ikuko-Mama. Usagi felt her heart pick up speed. Her father and her mother. Both….

No. That little ol' strand of hair didn't prove anything. People lost hair all throughout the day. What was it, like sixty strands a day? Something like that. You practically left a trail of it all throughout the house.

Except this hair strand in particular was matted with blood.

Realizing this, Usagi shot to her feet and began to back away, Kenji-Papa's glasses gripped tightly in one hand, the Eternal Moon Article in the other. One step back and then another. Panic fluttered somewhere deep within the lower stomach region. It was only a matter of time before it would all come bursting out in one sudden scream. Her father and mother. Both gone. Taken. Kidnapped. Kidnapped by-

She felt her back thud against something hard and tall, and all that suppressed panic went rushing out of her mouth as the scream she'd predicted. Her mind went berserk. Michael Myers! The intruder! Satoshi! He was still in the house! Still in the house!! Usagi whirled around, screaming all the way, and came face to face with the refrigerator. She sighed and was about to turn away from it, when she noticed something.

Usually blank except for the occasional grocery list, there was something tacked onto it now – a small sheet of lined notepaper, held to the fridge's surface with a bunny-faced magnet. Usagi felt one arm extend in much the same dreamy fashion as before, and take hold of the note. At first, she thought that it might _be_ one of the occasional grocery lists, but she soon remembered that Ikuko-Mama had just gone to the store the other day. And she always threw out her old lists the second she returned home.

Her heart hammering against her ribs, Usagi read.

Stenciled up near the top of the paper, in neat script were the words: _A Final Prediction For you_

And below that:

_The Rainbow Bridge. Tokyo._

_1:00. Two Dead._

_Very Soon._

------- _A friend_

And below that:

_In case you couldn't decipher that, please allow me to be a little clearer. I have your parents and I plan to kill them when the clock chimes one. If you care for their lives, hand over the Silver Crystal. Come as Sailor Moon, or no deal. I look forward to seeing you. _

Usagi felt her entire upper body go numb. Her hands fell to her sides. From somewhere far away, she heard two distant clatters as Kenji-Papa's glasses and the transformation compact both struck the floor, the compact snapping open upon impact.

So there it was. In plain print. Her parents had been kidnapped and were going to be killed. She was too late. If only … Usagi screamed in blind frustration and pounded both fists against the cold face of the refrigerator. Tears coursed over her cheeks in rivers. If only she had listened to that nagging voice earlier! If she'd gone as soon she felt the first stirrings, maybe her parents would still be….

And all because of the Silver Crystal. Typical. Usagi looked down at the compact, with the Crystal glistening inside like some huge, gaudy diamond. "My crystal is…" Another tear slid down her face. "…at the heart of so many terrible disasters." It was true. How many enemies had she fought during her career as Sailor Moon? Queen Beryl, the Wiseman of the Thirtieth Century, Pharaoh 90, Queen Nehellenia, and Galaxia. As different as they were, they all had one thing in common: a lust after the Silver Moon Crystal. But things were different now. With the kidnapping of Kenji-Papa and Ikuko-Mama, things had been turned completely upside down. The same old game was suddenly new. The rules had changed.

But it still wasn't too late!

It wasn't! Spurred on by new hope, Usagi snatched up the transformation compact from the floor. One o'clock – that was the set time. They were still alive! It wasn't 1:00 yet! Satoshi had given his word in the note (_the ransom note_, Usagi's mind corrected) that he wouldn't harm either of them until then.

All well and good, but how long did she have?

Usagi dashed across the devastated kitchen in a manner that would've made the high school track coach drool, and vaulted over the upturned dinner table before crashing into the living room. Her eyes quickly scanned over the place. A clock, a clock… Where was-

Aha! There! Hanging over the TV, it protested that despite the dark, it was really 12:30 in the afternoon.

That gave her only a scant thirty minutes to make it across town to the Rainbow Bridge – a distance of who _knew_ how many city blocks! Could it be done? Usagi clutched the moon compact so tightly that her knuckles drained of color. It would _have _to be done. There really wasn't any other choice. "Silver Moon Crystal Power! Make-UP!!"

Once again: nothing. Usagi screamed into her arm. Why wasn't it working?! Why wasn't the Silver Crystal reacting to the transformation phrase?! The one thing she knew about the stone for certain was something that her natural mother, Queen Serenity, had told her once, years ago: _Princess Serenity, remember this – The Mystical Silver Crystal follows your heart._ Well, if that were truly the case, it would've reacted long ago! Now, standing in the darkened quiet of her living room, Usagi's heart was screaming out in frustration and worry. She wanted to help her parents, needed to, felt drawn to them with every fiber in her being, but the Crystal still wouldn't spark.

Well, maybe going as Sailor Moon wasn't necessary. She had the Crystal. Perhaps she would just go to the Rainbow Bridge and just explain things to Satoshi – that she was having some transformation difficulties, you know – but that he could have the Crystal anyway, 'cause it really didn't work anymore, and if he would just hold up his end of the bargain-

_Ha!_ Usagi had to laugh at that little flight of fancy. No. Explaining things logically would not work. Satoshi made it clear in his note – no Sailor Moon, no deal. If she did not arrive in complete Sailor Soldier regalia, her parents were dead. But the simple fact was, she could not transform. Everything was therefore lost.

"U-Usagi?" A hurt meow.

"Luna!"

Luna appeared from the debts of the blackness, from behind the sofa, actually, and began walking toward her mistress. She hadn't gotten very far when she stumbled and crumpled to the floor in a mass of black fur. Usagi called out and ran to her aide. She went to pick her up, but Luna wrenched back in pain anticipation. The poor thing was hurt. Hurt bad. Her breathing was labored. Dark red splotches of blood hid from sight, mingling in almost completely with jet-black fur. But Usagi saw them. "Oh, Luna. Luna, Luna…." She offered a gentle hand. It caressed Luna's head lightly, but even that small touch seemed too much for her to take.

She winched and drew back.

Usagi closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see.

"I – I'm sorry, Usagi. But Satoshi…" At the subconscious mention of that name, Luna's red eyes went wild. "Satoshi! He's the enemy! I saw him with my own eyes!" Gasping and grimacing, the loyal cat tried to rise up. "He's the-"

"Sshh." Usagi nodded and made a calming hand gesture. "I know already. Just relax for now. It's all right."

"I tried to stop him," Luna continued. "I tried to fight, but he was just too strong. It – he took your parents, Usagi-chan! _He took your parents! _I tried to save them, but…"

"I know. Just … just relax."

"It all happened so quickly, though. It was j-just a normal day."

Yes. It had been just a normal day. All extraordinary days began that way. Uneventful. Without warning. Then they blow up in your face as you go about your business. One single, sudden event can turn even the most routine day upside down. Usagi took in the painful sight of Luna, lying beaten and bloody on the living room carpet and shook her head sadly. Why, not an hour ago, the two of them had been up in her room laughing and joking together. Not an hour ago, an unopened report card had been the extent of her worries.

Usagi stood. "I'm going to confront him."

"What?! You can't!" Once more, Luna tried to come to a standing position. Once more, she could not.

"I have to. I don't have a choice. These are my parents we're talking about."

"But you can't transform! What if he expects a duel? You won't stand a chance!"

Again with the transformation issue. And it _was_ an issue. No Sailor Moon, no deal. And with the Eternal Moon Article not cooperating….

Wait a second. Usagi wrinkled her brows together in swift concentration. An idea was forming. The compact wasn't working, but that didn't mean that _other_ things…. Yes! There was a way!

"Stay there, Luna! Don't move!" Usagi bounded over the dining table once more and into the kitchen. She ran into the outer hall and flew up the stairs, an involuntary smile spreading over her lips. The door to her bedroom took shape at the end of the hall and she crashed into it. Wasting not a second, Usagi went down on her knees and skidded along the carpet, coming to a stop beside her bed. She tore off the bedskirt with one quick movement and, casting it aside, shoved her entire upper body into the narrow space between the floor and the bed.

Where was it? _Where was it?!?!_ Choking on a year's worth of accumulated dust, Usagi continued to paw through the various assortments of goodies she had stuffed under her bed throughout the ages. Discard pajama tops and bottoms, old stuffed animals, plastic bins containing volumes of comic books with bent pages, missing homework assignments – they all came flying out from underneath the bed in one continuous upchuck. The space underneath Usagi's bed was a cavern of mysteries. At one time during the search, her fingers brushed up against something small and furry. Usagi's first crazy thought was that it was Diana – Luna's child from the future – and that the curious little kitten had somehow gotten stuck beneath the bed before smothering to death amid the junk. _Man, Chibiusa's gonna KILL me, _Usagi thought incoherently as she pulled the fuzzy thing out. But it wasn't Diana, of course. It was a half-eaten pizza, green and furry with mold.

Retching, Usagi plowed back in. She swept both hands in a wide arc but felt nothing. It wasn't underneath the bed. And if it wasn't underneath the bed, there was no telling where it could be. Usagi stuffed _everything_ underneath the bed. Where else could it be?!

_Time. TIME! Hurry up and find it! You don't have much TIME to waste! _

"I know that! I know!"

Then, perhaps guided by some merciful divine force, her fingers brushed up against something small and cylindrical. Her heart leapt with joy. Finally! Bending backwards, she pushed herself out from underneath the black horror from below the bed and stood. Her eyes dropped to what she was holding. She thought she'd gotten it right, but she had to be sure.

Chunky and constructed out of pink plastic, the thing in her hand looked more like a Fischer-Price child's toy than a mystical magical item. In all actuality, it looked like a pen. A large faux ruby, set into the end, twinkled merrily in room's only illumination – Usagi's bunny-headed nightlight.

The Disguise Pen. Its power enabled its wielder to transform into whatever he or she so wished. Wanna look like a rock star? How about a prince or princess from a far away land? All you had to do was say the magic word. At one time, the Disguise Pen had been a staple in Usagi's crime-fighting kit. But as the years went on and more powerful items were acquired, the pen fell into disuse – being used only rarely – until it was stashed away underneath the bed.

_I'm sorry about that. Really, I am._ Usagi took the transformation tool in both hands and prayed with all her might. _But please, please work. That's all I ask. I'll never take you for granted again. Just please…._

Heart beating wildly, eyes closed tightly shut against what could very well be an exercise in futility, Usagi held the pen loosely by its tip. She perceived her plan as having a 50/50 chance of success. What if – what if the pen also relied upon the Silver Crystal as its source of power? If that was the case, it wouldn't work and all hope would be lost.

A 50/50 chance. Good enough.

"MOON POWER!" Usagi screamed out the two words as if the added excitement might bolster its power.

_Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease. _

With a flick of the wrist, the pen went flying up. It flew end over end, somersaulting into the air.

_Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease._

"MORPH INTO ETERNAL SAILOR MOON!!"

The ruby flashed, bathing the room in dazzling sequences of red strobe light. Tiny golden stars, looking like paper cutouts that had been sprinkled with glitter, appeared in its wake as the pen vanished into thin air. These stars fell onto Usagi in a twinkling cloud, and as their golden dust descended upon her, she felt her clothes began to ripple as if caught up in a strong breeze.

Three seconds later, and Usagi was transformed. Now in heels, she rushed over to her closet and threw open the door so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror. It was a stunning facsimile. It wasn't the real thing, of course, but it looked enough like it that nobody, not even Usagi herself, could've told the difference. Every detail of the original uniform was represented – the white knee-high boots with the red chevron stripes, the yellow, red and blue triple-tiered miniskirt, the angle-wings... Even the defunct Eternal Moon Article, flanked by a bow of feathers, had been recreated. And there, stamped proudly onto her forehead – a golden crescent moon, the symbol of the Silver Millennium.

It all looked well enough to the eye, but Usagi noted the minute differences. The wings pinned to her back, for instance, were heavier, almost causing her to tumble backwards with the weight. The skirt, a little itchier - the boots, a little less comfortable than those of the original version.

But it would do.

All too conscious of the time, Usagi flew out of her bedroom and into the upstairs hall, still clutching the transformation brooch. She took the steps down three at a time. She was in such a rush that she didn't hear the front door squeak shut and faint footsteps move about the downstairs area. She didn't hear the voice calling out the same words she had called out when she first arrived: "Mom? Dad?" She didn't even realize somebody else was in the house until she ran into them at the foot of the stairs.

She gasped but did not scream. Now in uniform, her courage had been bolstered a hundred fold. It always worked that way. Just saying the transformation phrase was usually enough to put her in another mindset. Usagi was a klutz and a crybaby, but Sailor Moon … Sailor Moon was a warrior.

Usagi reached out with both hands and shoved the intruder away. Whoever it was slammed against the wall with a grunt of surprise. The impact of the crash dislodged a picture from its nail and sent it crashing to the floor with a shattering of glass.

Calm, calmer than she'd been since the start of this whole mess, Usagi knelt down next to the burglar. With the bombings and the crazy sun-outage, there were bound to be a lot of 'em running around taking advantage of the situation by breaking into homes and looting them clean. Well, this one hadn't been so lucky. And by the looks of things, this one was just a little kid, barely into his teenage years. A skinny little guy with a headful of shaggy, sandy-colored locks. Come to think of it, he looked really familiar.

Then it hit her. "Shingo!"

A groan served as the reply.

"Shingo! I'm so sorry! Let me help you up!" Usagi offered a hand and Shingo grasped onto it, pulling himself back up. He blinked and shook his head furiously, trying to clear his thoughts. He then lifted his face up toward Usagi … and paused in mid-motion. His mouth dropped open. His eyes bulged out in a mask of comical stupefaction. He took a step backward and flattened himself against the wall.

Was there somebody behind her? Usagi turned around quickly. Nope.

"S-S-Sailor M-M-M-M-Moon!" By now the poor kid was shaking like a leaf. The expression etched upon his face was exactly like the one Minako had two weeks ago when she thought she'd spotted Marky Mark at the corner deli: total shock. And why not? Sailor Moon, while something like an urban legend to the more skeptic adults out there, was revered as absolutely real among the children of Tokyo. And for Shingo, just out of his childhood years, suddenly coming into contact with a celebrity (in your own _house_, no less!) was mind numbing.

He did not see his sister standing before him. He only saw Sailor Moon.

Nobody every recognized any of the Sailor Soldiers. Even Usagi, with her distinctive buns and pigtails, could come and go as she pleased without fear of anyone discovering her true identity. According to Ami, who had once done some research on the subject, it was all thanks to something called _glamour_. This glamour acted as a kind of magical aura that surrounded the Sailors upon transformation so as to make them appear different from their civilian identities. While Shingo saw Sailor Moon's buns and pigtails, the glamour prevented him from making the connection with his sister's same hairstyle.

"Shingo!" Usagi reached for him, but he pulled back.

"S-S-S-Sailor Moon." Over and over again like some odd Buddhist meditation.

"Shingo, it's me! Usagi!"

A shadow of awareness flickered through his green eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the left, like a dog trying to understand a particularly difficult command from his master.

Usagi bit down hard on her lip. Time was running out! A part of her wanted to throw up her hands and take off through the door, but another more compassionate part ordered her to stay. She needed to explain things. She needed Shingo to understand the situation. For his sake and his safety.

"Look at me, Shingo."

He did, his eyes still round with wonderment.

"It's me. Usagi. I'm Sailor Moon. I always was. I wish I could explain things more, but Mom and Dad are in danger and I've got to help them out. So I'm going and I want you to stay here. Do you understand? Stay here and do not move. No matter what you hear going on outside, stay here."

"U? Sa? Gi?" The glamour was crumbling brick by brick.

Usagi smiled. "Yes. Now be a good boy and listen to your big sister, 'kay?" With that, she turned to leave. She'd gotten as far as the entrance hall when she turned back. Shingo hadn't moved from the base of the stairs. He was still utterly dumbfounded by the recent revelation. With one gloved hand, Usagi reached out and pulled her brother into a hug. He was getting tall. She ruffled his wild hair and took in his scent. He smelled of sweat and matches and dirt. Boy smells. And with those smells came the memories – old, faded memories of the two of them playing together as little children, kicking around in a sandbox, bashing each other silly during apocalyptic pillow fights, reading stories to each other after everything had clamed down and a truce declared.

"You're a jerk and a turd, but I love you," Usagi said through sobs. "And I hate to say it, but I think you're just about the best little brother anyone could've asked for." Only later did it occur to her that the words she had spoken could've been classified as a goodbye speech.

But now, here in the present, Usagi felt a pressure around her waist as Shingo wrapped his arms around her, fumbling awkwardly through the wings. Neither of them spoke after that.

And then she was gone, leaving both Shingo and her house behind. At one point, as she ran through the manic city streets toward the Rainbow Bridge, she found herself looking back – wishing that she had taken a second to savor the familiar curves of the Tsukino house, _her_ house. But of course by then it was too late. She had left home far behind.

With each running step, it became clearer that this wasn't going to end well in any event. If she handed over the Silver Crystal (which she planned to do), she was effectively handing the city over to Satoshi on a golden platter. But if she didn't, her parents would die. Either way, someone –the city as a whole, or her parents – was going to suffer.

Usagi forced these thoughts out from her mind as best she could. She would worry about possible repercussions later.

Traffic was still a mess. Police had cordoned off certain streets leading to the bombed areas, causing traffic to become a pulsating knot of headlights and flashing red brakes. Irritated honking filled the air. Business along each side of the street glowed in warm shades of neon, contrasting sharply against the black sky - a strange sight considering it was actually lunchtime. Electric billboards along the sides of skyscrapers flashed their wares to the confused jumble of people below. A woman with pink hair, dressed in plastic pasties and a g-string confirmed that one sprtiz of Axe Body Spray was all that it took to make the girls go wild. The director's cut of _Metal Gear Solid 2_ was coming out for Playstation 2 sometime next year. And high above the city, Ronald McDonald danced the tango with Grimmace.

And the time, as noted by a Nokia advertisement, was 12:48.

Usagi ran ever onward. A cramp had positioned itself firmly in her side, but she refused to let it slow her down. She was by now, after running however many blocks, almost completely out of breath, but still she did not slow down. Lives were at stake. And not just any lives, but the lives her parents. It was wrong to place a value on human life, to value some before others, but she could not help it. Right now, wrong as she knew it was, she would've gladly sacrificed the entire city if it meant saving the live of her parents.

Ikuko-Mama.

Kenji-Papa.

Two innocent victims caught up in a crazy game. Just like Naru. Just like … everybody.

The road leading to the Rainbow Bridge was just ahead. Or so Usagi hoped. One misstep, one turn down the wrong road, could take precious minutes out of the equation. She only hoped she knew where she was going. She'd been across the bridge enough times before, but things were different now. She was on foot. And she had to rely on her memory and not Kenji-Papa's driving to get her to her destination. Add that to the fact that Usagi was a forget person by nature, who seldom found her way to the school toilet by herself, and you had a recipe for disaster on your hands.

She took the turns in the street blindly, choosing roads seemingly at random. Left, right, right, straight ahead…. One foot in front of the other. Never before had she felt time as consciously as she did now. She could feel it slipping past like the rapid current of a stream. Every second counting down to death.

_Ikuko-Mama! Kenji-Papa!_ Usagi squeezed her eyes shut against the white pain flaring up through her legs and side. _Wait for me!_

She turned once more and found herself amid a screaming stampede. People rushed past like frightened cattle, pushing her roughly aside, trampling over one another to get to escape whatever was behind them. One man, half-crazed, grabbed her by one arm and screamed into her face to "Run! _RUN!!!!_" before disappearing back into the fleeing crowd.

She did not run. At least not back. Instead, she ran forward, into the throng. She felt her wings slapping people in the face. She felt their frenzied hands tearing at her clothes. Onward. Onward.

Then the crowd vanished upon her emergence onto a side street. Usagi gasped as she took in the devastation around her. This street had been obliterated. Bodies littered the pavement. Cars lay scattered around smoking and on fire, their occupants dead or dying inside. The buildings facing the road were piles of rubble. Smoke choked the air.

But beyond the catastrophe, through the dirty haze, Usagi could see the gleaming

white edifices of the Rainbow Bridge spanning the Tokyo Bay. She'd made it.

But had she made it in time?

Then she became aware of people. They were standing before her, dozens wide, hundreds thick. All silent and motionless. It only took her a second to recognize them for what they were. Droids.

They regarded her with eyeless faces, a soulless army on high alert. They did not move forward to engage her. They did not make any kind of movement whatsoever.

Then Usagi's eyes were drawn to the smoldering overturned school bus, smack in the middle of the droid pit. She saw her mother. She saw her father. Both bound and gagged with rope like animals. They were atop the bus, resting on their knees, separated by a tall figure standing between them.

Usagi felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move.

"_EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!"_ Every droid suddenly screeched and pointed a white finger forward.

The figure standing between Ikuko-Mama and Kenji-Papa straightened without turning around. "Welcome, Sailor Moon."

_Oh, no._ Usagi felt her blood turn to ice. That voice. It sounded just like …. _exactly_ like….

Then the figure _did_ turn around, and when it did, Usagi had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming out loud.

Dressed in a long flowing cloak of deepest purple, with the inside folds so inky black that it made it look like the cloak was floating in the air without a body, stood the Wiseman. The very same Wiseman she had faced years ago and years yet to come. She knew it was Satoshi, some part of her brain knew it, anyway, but he looked so much like her old enemy that she couldn't grasp onto that fact. He didn't even sound like himself anymore. That voice, cold and rumbling like a deadly storm sounded nothing like the voice of a teenage boy.

It was as if the Wiseman had come back to life and was now standing before her. And in a manner of speaking, he had and was. What Usagi was seeing now was her old enemy's past self.

"Satoshi?" She breathed the word out as if for confirmation.

"No," the robed figure waved a finger. "That was a name given to me by my inferiors. The Master has bestowed a new title upon me – one that I find quite fitting."

Usagi braced herself. She knew what was coming.

"You may address me as 'Death Phantom'."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Tired, hungry, and worn nearly to a frazzle, Mamoru stepped off the elevator and shuffled down the hall toward his apartment. There were only two doors on either side of the hall (the complex wasn't a big one) and he came to a stop in front of the first one on the left. Apartment 4-A. Home sweet home.

After unlocking the door, Mamoru entered inside and let out a long sigh that had been building up since his 5 am wake-up call. Being a fourth year med student wasn't easy. Never mind the heavy workload and brutal exams, it was the _people_ he couldn't stand. All those doctors, so high and mighty, so full of themselves, so insensitive to the needs of their patents. Mamoru wondered at what point during their careers they made the leap from genuine caring individuals to greedy money-sucking cash vultures. It was all a little disheartening. And the worst one was that callous pig, Dr. Imura. The same Dr. Imura Mamoru he was scheduled to work under later tonight.

He sighed again. He could just hear him already. _Where's my coffee? I can't get on with my work unless I have my coffee! You there, inferior med student, bring forth my COFFEE!!!_

At least that was a blessed …. how many hours away? Mamoru glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen counter. Hmm. Only 11:00. The confrontation with Dr. Imura wasn't for another six hours.

Mamoru slipped off his shoes, groaning at the effort. He had so many things to do. There was that twenty-four-page Bio paper due sometime next week; the eighteen-page Ethics paper expected the following week, and all the assigned readings for _this_ week and that presentation on cryogenics Thursday. How did the old saying go? So much to do, so little time?

So many papers to finish, so many exams to study for. It was all a little overwhelming. But boy, oh boy, a nice hot bath would melt all those troubles away. Actually, come to think of it, that didn't sound like a bad idea at all. Before he could change his mind, Mamoru fled to the bathroom and started up the water. The sound of it splashing against the cold porcelain of the tub was soothing in its own right.

Smiling, Mamoru shed his clothes and tested the water with a toe. Ooh. Nice and hot. Satisfied with the temperature, he then slipped in. The temperature was, in fact, much hotter than he had anticipated and he winced, letting out a series of "A-a-aaah's" before settling down. Water bubbled up onto his chest and enveloped his shoulders. A quick mental flash of his biology and medical texts pilled up high in the living room, dusty and forgotten, elicited a chuckle. Whoever would have thunk it? Mamoru Chiba, med student extraordinaire, slacking off on schoolwork. _It's true_, he thought as he submerged further beneath the bath's hot surface. _Usako has been a terrible influence on me._

He must've fallen asleep; for he awoke an indeterminable time later to the worst pain he had ever felt before in his life. There was no gradual movement from the dreaming world to any sort of waking existence. It was sudden and terrible. One moment he was lying peacefully in the tub, dreaming of a world without exams or homework, and the next, he was splashing about trying to catch a breath.

Breathing was out of the question. It felt as though his lungs were iron cages. They simply wouldn't inflate. Agony encased his heart in a tight grip. His pulse became wild and unsteady. Stars popped and sizzled before his eyes, blotting out the rest of the bathroom. His blood ran cold, like tiny metal shards in his veins. Panicking, he tried to brace his arms against the side of the tub to keep from drowning, but was unable. He could not move them at all. He was, for the moment, completely paralyzed with pain.

_Bum! Bum! Bum!_ And all the while, his heartbeat pounded in his ears, loud and spastic. _Bum! Bum! BUM!_

Shudders twisted through the lower half of his body. His feet and legs convulsed frantically about, splashing water onto the floor like a child throwing a bath-time tantrum. Then it moved upward and his arms joined in with the dance. He felt something wet rise up in his throat.

Straining against the unimaginable torment, Mamoru forced his eyes shut. _I'm having a seizure_, some clam, madly analytic part of his brain noticed. That same part of his brain then went about diagnosing the problem like the doctor he might one day be. It played both the doctor role, and that of the patient – which was appropriate since, in this case, they were one and the same.

_So, how are we today, Mr. Chiba? _

_-Not so good doc, I think I may be dyin' here. _

_Hmm. You do seem to be in a pickle, son. Are you currently on any medication?_

_-No._

_Do you have a family history of epilepsy, Mr. Chiba?_

_-No._

_Heart problems?_

_-No._

Another painful shudder wrenched its way through Mamoru's body and he screamed. _Tried_ to scream, at least. He couldn't force his mouth open. It was like it had been wired shut.

_Okay, one last question,_ The doctor part promised. _Have you ever felt like this before?_

He was gonna die. It hurt. It hurt so bad! He couldn't breathe! Couldn't! Even! Think!

_-No, this is the first time! I've never felt like this! …Unless…. Well, there was that _one_ time…. _

Then it was gone. The pain vanished as quickly as it had occurred. For several seconds, Mamoru just sat there in the tub, waiting for a reoccurrence. When it started to become clear that he was safe (at least for the time being), he sighed and splashed water on his face. How scary had _that_ been? _Very_, the answer came back. All the scarier due to the suddenness of it. Mamoru liked to think of himself as a healthy individual, but that little near-death attack certainly changed things, didn't they? Boy, he'd never felt like that before. Never. The pain, it was….

Then he vomited. It came rising up in his throat in a sick tidal gush and before he knew it, he was leaning over and puking between his legs, into the water.

Red. He had thrown up something red.

Blood.

Mamoru blinked in surprise. Yep. Blood, sure enough, discoloring the bath water with tiny red streaks growing outward like some fatal inkblot.

Then it hit him. He knew where he had felt this pain before. Of course, it hadn't been anywhere this severe or this sudden, but…. Yes. A few years ago. When the Dead Moon Circus invaded the earth, bringing with them their exotic animals, their acrobats, their cotton candy, and their curse. The Queen of the Dead Moon, Nehellenia, had cursed Elysion – the sacred land protecting the Earth, as part of her infernal scheme to gain control over the planet. An unexpected side effect of this curse (well, unexpected at least to Mamoru) was the physiological symptoms associated with it. Mamoru, being the carrier of the Golden Crystal and Prince of the Earth, was the first to feel it. At first, it had started out as a simple pain in the chest. But as the curse over Elysion spread, it became much more serious – cumulating with him regularly coughing up black blood and nearly passing out on several occasions.

Now, seeing that blood in the water, it all made sense. The Earth, the very planet itself, was in danger.

Mamoru got to his feet, albeit shakily, and drained the tub of its stained water. As he did this, he could hear frantic footsteps rushing around in the hall beyond the apartment. Through the thin walls, voices could also be heard. There were two sets of them and they were shouting something about "an attack" and "smoke".

_That_ couldn't be good. Something was wrong. Big time.

Mamoru rushed out of the bathroom and galloped to the door of his apartment. He was about to fling it open and jump out into the hall when it suddenly occurred to him that he was stark naked. Not wanting to scar his neighbors for life, he quickly returned to the bathroom and changed into a white terrycloth robe. Once securely belted, he joined in with the ruckus outside.

Everyone was there. Everyone, at least, who was still home at midday. There was Mrs. Mercer, standing by the window at the end of the hall, looking frazzled and worried. Slung almost carelessly across one hip was little Frankie, her seventh-month-old bouncing baby boy, who was presently crying his head off. Next to her stood Mr. Fujita, a stout little balding man somewhere in his early seventies. They stood next to each other, neither of them exchanging any words. They just looked out the window; their bodies huddled close together. Mamoru knew both of them. Mrs. Mercer was the wife of a United States Navy officer currently stationed in Tokyo. The four of them – Mamoru, Mr. and Mrs. Mercer and little Frankie – actually got along quite nicely. Sometimes Mamoru tutored them in their Japanese when he had a break in his own studies. Nice folks. Mr. Fujita he didn't know as well. They only spoke in passing. But judging from his ramrod-straight posture and his quick and precise manner of speech, Mamoru suspected the older man had himself served in some branch of service eons and eons ago.

Still barefoot, Mamoru padded down the short, carpeted hall over to the window at the end. When Frankie spotted him around his mother's hip, he instantly ceased with the hysterics and cooed happily.

"Hiya, buddy," Mamoru smiled, running one finger along the baby's chubby cheek. He then placed a gentle hand on Mrs. Mercer's shoulder. "Something wrong?" He asked, easily switching over to English.

Mrs. Mercer turned around. Confusion and, flickering beneath that – fear, were written plainly on her face. She joisted Frankie up higher on her side and shook her head. "I don't know _what's_ going on. I was in the kitchen, making us a little snack-" she nodded absently to the baby "-and then there was all this noise and smoke and-"

Mr. Fujita loudly cleared his throat. He sniffed.

Mamoru turned to him.

"Chiba."

"Fujita-sama." The honorific slipped easily through the mouth. An unconscious addition to the name, many people found themselves using it when addressing the man in public. Fellow tenants, police officers, janitors, college professors, Jiro Fujita possessed the ability to intimidate anyone.

"There were six explosions," the honorable sir commented. He spoke this slowly, with fingers hooked into the belt loops of his pants. It was obvious the gruff little man took pleasure in being the sole source of information. "The first five explosions occurred within seconds of each other. The last, the sixth, was the largest of them all and happened a few minutes later."

_Explosions? _That seemed serious.

Mrs. Mercer took a step in between the two men. "What did he say?" She asked.

Back to English: "He said he heard six explosions and-"

"Yeah! Six of 'em! That last one scared the blue sh-" she flicked a glance at Mamoru and blushed. "Well, it scared me to death. Didn't _you_ hear?"

"I fell asleep in the tub."

Mr. Fujita hawked back a large spitwad. Tapping the glass of the hall window, he said: "Take a look for yourself, Chiba."

Nodding reassuringly to the frightened Mrs. Mercer, Mamoru pushed gently past her toward the window. He took one quick look at Mr. Fujita before looking out. _Prepare yourself, boy_, that look said. _Hold on; because I don't think you're man enough to handle what you're going to see._

He _was_ able to handle it, though, but just barely. Mamoru felt a gasp rise up in his throat as he looked out the fourth story window, but managed to suppress it. Reacting like a girly girl wouldn't score well in the great Fujita's book. But it was shocking – the sight of it. True to the other man's word, there was smoke. Lots of it. From the apartment building's place in the city, only two smoking columns were visible. But that was enough for Mamoru. He saw them both with absolute clarity. Black, vicious serpents rising to the sky, the second one a bit smaller than the other (which meant that explosion had happened further away than the first), but still there. Orange flames licked the air at the base of the black pillars, pushing the fumes higher. Mamoru shivered. There was something wildly disconcerting about all that black against the cool blue of a late winter sky. Bad things were supposed to happen in the dark, amid thunder and lightning. Not during broad daylight.

"Looks like it's coming from the police stations," Mr. Fujita said suddenly, startling Mamoru badly. "One there, there," he pointed with his finger. "and three more on the other side of the building."

"What?" Mrs. Mercer's voice trembled.

Translating once more, Mamoru filled her in on the details.

"And it looked like the sixth, that big one, came from the vicinity of the Imperial Palace grounds."

Now Mamoru _did_ gasp. He couldn't help it.

"What? What is it?" Mrs. Mercer asked, bewildered.

Mamoru ignored her. "Palace grounds? Is the…" He didn't want to ask this next question, but he needed to know regardless. "Is the … do you think Emperor's…"

The look on Mr. Fujita's face answered that question by itself.

"Mamoru! What's going on?! What are you two saying?!" Mrs. Mercer was tugging on his bathrobe sleeve now, on the verge of hysterics. "I'm SCARED!!"

Feeling like some kind of last-minute United Nations translator lost amid the din of a thousand voices talking at once, he translated the Japanese once again into English. He told her about the Emperor and how he was probably, most likely … dead. Her fear did not grow nor lessen upon hearing the news. What did she care of the Emperor's safety? She was a nice young woman, but also an American. And as such, she just didn't hold the Emperor in the same place in her heart the way Japanese citizens did.

The Emperor dead, the Imperial Palace destroyed… Could it be some kind of sudden political attack? Terrorists? Possibly. But then how did you explain the bathtub seizures and the coughing up blood? Something had wounded the Earth, Mamoru's guarding planet, badly enough for him to feel the effects. Nothing sort of a nuclear bomb could've done that. But since he was still alive, he quickly threw that out of the window as a possible cause. No terrorist, then. Which left him with more … supernatural explanations.

"I'm going up to the roof to see more." Mr. Fujita. "Coming along, Chiba?"

Slowly, Mamoru raised a hand to his chest. Something was wrong. Apart from the fires and the explosions, apart from the sound of sirens growing in the distance. Something was wrong. With Usagi. He did not know exactly how he knew this, he just did. But the one thing he _did_ know was that like twins, the revelers of true love – that is, true love in its purest sense, not the schoolgirl musings of teenage hearts - also enjoy a kind of telepathic psychic connection. At least it was this way with him and Usagi. They had reached a point in their relationship where they found themselves finishing each other's sentences. Sometimes it was almost as if they could read each other's minds. They could pick up on the other's emotions. Happiness. Joy.

And sadness and fear and worry.

And those were the senses Mamoru was picking up on now, even through the distance that separated them. They were resonating deep within his heart, those feelings. Hurting him. Suffocating him.

Usagi. What was wrong with her?

"Chiba?" A hand on his shoulder. "You don't look so good."

"You go on ahead," he said weakly to Mr. Fujita. "I've got … business to take care of. He began to push his way away from the others when Frankie started up again. The poor baby screamed and cried out to the heavens, his pudgy face a bright red tomato. Mamoru sighed and found himself walking back to Mrs. Mercer, despite the feelings of urgency reverberating in his gut. He bent down so that he was eye-level with the baby and stuck out a finger. Immediately, Frankie stopped crying. The kid reached out with two doughy arms and grabbed hold of Mamoru's finger with surprising strength.

"Mam-mam!"

Mamoru smiled. "You got that right." He stood, ruffling little Frankie's wispy hair in the process. "Be a good boy for your mom, okay, buddy?" And with that, he turned to leave.

"Hey. Wait." Mrs. Mercer called after. She stood in the middle of the hallway, an angelic figure framed against the blue and rising black of the end window. "Is everything going to be okay? Will my husband be called out, do you think? Will he … is everything going to be okay?"

Mamoru saw the look in her eyes. It begged for a lie. A nice reassuring lie that would make the next few minutes at least bearable for all parties involved. So he compiled. "Yes. Everything will be just fine. Wait and see." The falsehood sounded good even to him. And he knew better.

One last reassuring smile and he was gone. He took the stairs. The elevator would be too slow. As he hurtled down the metal stairwell, he found his thoughts divided between Usagi and Frankie. Frankie with his fat little baby face and toothless smile. What a cool little dude he was. Mamoru hoped his parents realized how lucky they were to have such a gift. He himself longed to be a dad. An orphan, he had never given the future much thought prior to meeting Usagi. He'd assumed his life would continue in the same direction of loneliness as it always had been. Then Usagi walked into his life and from that point onward, he knew things were going to be different. He remembered their first encounter quite vividly. In those days, the whereabouts of the Mystical Silver Crystal had been a mystery, and Mamoru, under vague orders from a dream, had spent countless midnights searching for it. All too often he would settle down for a night's sleep, only to wake up some time later, walking the city streets in a tuxedo, looking for that Crystal. And it was during one of his searches that he first encountered Usagi.

It'd been a hot day, and for the past _few_ days, Mamoru had been staking out a particular jewelry store. He staked out so many of them back then, always on the lookout for that one specific jewel that would change his destiny forever. Usagi had come out of the store in question, fretting about some poor test grade or something. In her despair she had wrinkled up the test into a ball and thrown it at Mamoru, who had been standing behind her. After a few well-chosen insults hurled between the two of them, Usagi had walked off, leaving Mamoru standing there with the strangest feeling welling up within him. It was love, of course, the remembrance of the love shared between them a millennium ago as Endymion and Serenity. But he had not recognized it for what it was back then. For he had only known his own tired isolation, existing just to exist, with no joy in life.

Now he knew, though. Now he knew the bright future awaiting them both and it somehow terrified him. Would he be a good husband to Usagi? A good father to Chibiusa? He never really knew his _own_ parents, so how was he supposed to function as a husband and father when he had no role model to take notes from?

Terrifying.

Somewhere between the third and second floors of the apartment building, the belt of his robe came undone. The fuzzy white cover-up flew out behind him, twisting into a knot before straightening out again. Only when it did, it was no longer a bathrobe. It was a billowing black cape, lined with crimson satin. And when Mamoru stepped outside, it was not with a bare foot, but with a polished black penny loafer.

Tuxedo Mask was on the scene.

Now in the out-of-doors, he took a quick whiff of the air. Smoky. Poisoned. The prelude to something tragic.

Tuxedo Mask closed his eyes against the acid tang of the wind and bent down. Delicate fingers caressed over the tiny patch of grass running along the city sidewalk. He felt each blade of grass individually – its slick green surface, its dewy texture. He touched the earth and spoke to it with his mind. _My guardian, I need your help. Where is Usagi? She's in danger and I must find her!_

Nothing for a long few seconds and then a quick flash of color. Sudden, and gone like a candle's light in a breeze.

Concentrating even harder, he closed himself off from the world around him. His ears paid no attention to the honking sirens racing along the street, the crackling sound of distant fires, the high-pitched squeals of the confused masses. None of that existed for the time being.

_Please,_ he begged again. _Usagi. Show me Usagi._

Now the images came. They raced into his mind at a dizzying pace. Even through the fabric of his gloves, the planet communicated with him, showing him fragmented mental pictures blurred around the edges like visions of a dream in a movie. Tuxedo Mask found himself racing across the city at breakneck speed, past ambulances and fire trucks, past fleeing pedestrians and hopeless traffic jams. He saw all these things while standing still. Saw them by way of the Earth itself. Then, just when the visions had reached such a breakneck pace that he thought he might faint from seer visual overload, he came to a stop.

He found himself looking at a huge smoke plume; city blocks wide and untold stories high. It was so high that it seemed to blot out the whole sky, to swallow the sun. The vision raced along its base, giving Tuxedo Mask a ground-level view of the destruction. Violet fires, hidden amongst the black, spurted high into the sky. The flames themselves were taller than many of the surrounding buildings.

_Is this the source of your pain?_ he asked. _It is, isn't it? Something happened here that hurt you pretty badly. _

As if in confirmation, the image went bright then faded again.

_Yes, I understand. But, please, I need to know where Usagi is. Show me Usagi._

The telepathic picture pulled out from the chaos, and then, like a stubborn child pulling on the dress of its mother for attention, zoomed back in. Pulled out and zoomed back in. Over and over again. The Earth was making sure its Prince knew that it was in danger. That it had been severely injured.

Tuxedo Mask nodded dreamily. He spoke patently and with understanding. _I see and I understand. I promise to help you. But first and foremost, I need to know where Usagi is. First that, and then you. _

That seemed to satisfy. In a split second, with a blurring of the image, the massive smoke cloud was gone, replaced by Usagi.

Yes. Yes! Tuxedo Mask frowned and narrowed his third eye. He saw Usagi clearly. She seemed to be in … her kitchen. At home. It was a mess. She also seemed to be reading something. Though it was hard to tell what.

Now fully in control of what he was seeing, Tuxedo Mask moved in closer to her. He peeped around her shoulder to see that she was holding a note. It gave directions and an ultimatum. He read it along with her and when she tossed it aside, he pulled away.

He stood up. He knew where she was headed. The Rainbow Bridge. He would meet her there. He would protect her there from whatever would harm her.

So he took off in that direction, not even aware that the sun had gone out and that the city had frozen all around him in amazement.

…

In her own little world, galaxies away from the here and now, Usagi Tsukino assessed the situation with an uncharacteristic cold kind of detachment. There were a variety of facts that had to be taken into account, you see. Fact One: the city was under attack. Or at least in the beginning stages of an attack. This first fact was unsettling, but she would handle it. Fact Two: the mastermind behind the whole thing was the Wiseman. Yeah, the same Wiseman she'd faced before, only … not. Talk about a blast from the past, eh? Or, in this case, would it be a blast from the future? Ooh. In any case, he was standing before her right now. Right here, right now. A swirling mass of purple cloth. Fact Three: he had her parents hostage and would not hesitate to kill them if she so much as made one tiny misstep.

This was the one fact she could not quite wrap her head around. So the city was under attack – fine. Satoshi, Hotaru's squeeze, is actually the Wiseman – okay. But this, this thing about her parents, she could not accept. Would not accept. Yet she saw them with her own two eyes. They were atop that overturned bus. They had been roped into submission. She saw this but did not quite believe. She saw the bruises smeared across her father's face – testament that he had at least put up a fight before going down for the count – and she saw her mother cowering down in upon herself, looking like a frightened little puppy. It all seemed like a dream. A nightmare. How could they be up there? How had they gotten into this situation? It couldn't be real. Her enemies had always gone after either her or the other Sailor Soldiers. Never family.

Time seemed to stretch on forever. Usagi licked her lips. Someone needed to say something. "Please don't hurt them." It came out little more than a faint whisper, so faint that she didn't think her tormentor had heard. "Please. _Please._ They aren't a part of this. Don't hurt them."

"That's up to you, my dear," Death Phantom croaked. "Don't _make_ me hurt them."

That voice! That voice like rolling thunder! Usagi felt her already weak resolve weaken even more. She looked up at her parents, hoping that seeing them might instill in her some kind of courage. It didn't. Neither Ikuko-Mama nor Kenji-Papa seemed to recognize her. For all they knew, Usagi was just some crazy girl in a costume. And with them not recognizing her, she could not offer them comfort. Not that she would know what to say anyway.

"You have the Crystal?"

Usagi held out the transformation brooch like an unworthy offering to an angry god. She bobbed her head up and down in what was both a nod and an uncontrollable spasm of fear.

"Bring it to me."

At that, the impenetrable wall of droids parted right down the middle with a loud shuffling of fabric. A tiny pathway had opened up, wide enough for just one person, leading to the bus.

Usagi did not move. She just stared straight ahead at the hundreds of solid sand-white faces that were staring back at her. Eyeless. Mouthless. Soulless.

She flicked her eyes back up at her parents, whose lives she know held in the palm of her hand. She wondered if they even really knew what was going on. Would knowing the truth make it easier for them? Oh how she wanted to run up to them and take them up in her arms in a big hug and explain everything – that she was really Sailor Moon and it was all her fault, all her fault, and-

Death Phantom moved into her line of vision with a fluttering of robes. Though his face could not be seen thanks to the shadow cast by his hood, the whites of his eyes nevertheless gleamed with an unnatural light. They looked down upon Usagi with a dangerous sort of impatience.

Her legs began to move forward of their own accord. She moved through the opened path like a ghost, all too aware of the droid army surrounding her. Each hesitant step brought her closer to the bus and to Death Phantom. Walking forward, she felt like some prisoner of war being led to the gallows. She took slow steps. She didn't want to expedite the process.

Then she was there. At the base of the bus.

"Give it to me," said Death Phantom.

She brought up the transformation brooch up to her chest. Was she really going to do this? Just hand it over like this? No! She couldn't! How could she voluntarily hand over the Silver Moon Crystal to an enemy? _Never mind that!_ Her mind hissed. _It's useless now! It doesn't mean anything! It has no power, so just give it to him! Give him what he wants! _And yet it still didn't seem right. She was a soldier! She should be fighting!

Then she looked at her parents once more. Ikuko-Mama's hair was a frizzy purple cloud about her head, which was downcast. She looked like a drugged lab specimen of some kind. Kenji-Papa seemed more alert. He was looking at Usagi in the strangest way. As if … _as if he suspected_.

Usagi smiled and nodded at her father. _Everything will be okay,_ she thought at him. She then looked back up at Death Phantom. A soldier she was, but it wasn't always about fighting. Sometimes it was about sacrifice.

She extended both arms with the compact in her hands.

Swiftly, a blurry purple cloud swept out and snatched the Eternal Moon Article away. He was laughing as he pried off the top of the brooch, exposing the Crystal inside. Soon it was in his hands. The Silver Moon Crystal, the sacred stone of the Silver Millennium, was now in the filthy hands of the enemy.

Usagi had to look away.

"Are you really Sailor Moon, the invincible warrior?" Taunted Death Phantom in between triumphant guffaws. "I expected some kind of scuffle at least. Very disappointing. You don't live up to the hype, I'm afraid."

Usagi set her face in stone. "I've upheld my end of the bargain," she said stoically. "Now uphold yours. Release my parents."

Kenji-Papa blinked and outstretched a hand toward his wife. Ikuko-Mama looked up for the first time since this whole mess had begun. They stared at each other, dumbfounded. Who was this girl standing before them trying to negotiate their release? Why did she address them as her parents? Could it be….. Come to think of it, the girl in the Sailor Moon costume did look a little familiar.

But her words fell on deaf ears. Death Phantom was too busty celebrating to discuss the particulars of the hostage situation. He held the Crystal tight in both hands and laughed and laughed – a sound much worse than his voice. "I HAVE it! Oh, can you hear me? I have it! The stone of illusions is ours at LAST!!" He threw back his cloaked head and screamed at the black heavens. He seemed to be talking to someone. But who? Who else was there?

Forgotten at his feet, Usagi tried again. "Be a man of your word and release my parents! You promised!"

No response. No response other than that insane tittering. "Mine! Mine at last! Oh, how wonderful! Oh, how -"

He stopped suddenly. Everything went silent. Death Phantom held out the Crystal in one hand as if he were just now seeing it for the first time. He turned his head slightly to the left, like he was focusing intently on some inaudible conversation.

Something was wrong. Usagi felt her heart plunge. What was going on? He seemed so happy and now…

"You must take me for an idiot."

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _Usagi put a hand to her chest in an effort to quell her raging heartbeat. Her eyes fled over the three main characters up on stage. Death Phantom. Ikuko-Mama. Keni-Papa. _Oh, what's going on? _She felt quite sick all of the sudden.

"Is this a game to you?! Even with their lives in the balance-" Death Phantom swept an arm toward his captives. "- you think this a game?!" Unknown fury seethed behind that voice. He looked down at Usagi with fire flickering in his eyes. Literally. The whites had transformed into blazing red orbs, the only light present amid the black folds of the robes. _"This holds no power! None at all!!" _He screamed anew. _"Deceitful WRETCH!!!"_

He hurled the Crystal at Usagi with the force of a pro-baseball pitcher. It struck her in the stomach and she instinctively reached out and caught it before it hit the pavement. And still he was screaming. At her. Calling her all sorts of horrible names, striking her with all the obscenities known to man. And she just stood there, not knowing what to do or say – if anything.

"Did you think I wouldn't know?! I applaud your courage, at least! But oh, you should've planned it better!!!!"

Kenji-Papa had his arms wrapped around Ikuko-Mama, who was cowering and covering her ears in pure, child-like fear. She was sobbing.

After a few moments more of swearing and screaming, Death Phantom regained some composure. He turned his back to Usagi. "Your untruthfulness stems from poor upbringing, I'd wager," he whispered.

Two droids hopped up onto the bus. One was wearing jeans and a dark blue turtleneck sweater, the other, women's capris and some kind of glittery black dress shirt. They began advancing toward Ikuko-Mama and Kenji-Papa. Like wolves moving in for the kill.

It hit her suddenly and like a ton of bricks. Usagi opened her mouth to scream, to cry, to beg for some kind of mercy, but could not negotiate words into any kind of coherent sentence structure. All that came out was a kind of warbling bird-like crescendo of terror. She tried to move forward, to run to her parent's aide, but could not. Strong hands had hold of her from behind. Droids. Their pathway had closed. She was entrapped.

They moved in a churning mass of hostility, the ones around her and the two up on top of the bus. The ones on top of the bus inched closer forward. Kenji-Papa moved in front of his wife, ready to stave off any threat or danger. He seemed to be saying something to Ikuko-Mama, but Usagi couldn't make it out. Giving her instructions to flee, perhaps?

Watching this transpire, Usagi felt a swell of pride for her father. _That's my dad, _she thought dreamily_. Isn't he brave? _But even his great courage wouldn't be enough to fight off the droids. He needed help! Help! Usagi gritted her teeth and tried to break free of the iron grip she found herself in. But to no avail.

Now they were so close. So close! Mere feet away. And now Ikuko-Mama was screaming. She understood what was going to happen.

"They have nothing to do with us, what we are," Death Phantom said slowly. "So I'll make it quick for them."

Oh, no. NO!!! _Satoshi! Wiseman! Death Phantom! Whatever you want to call yourself! Kill me if you have to, but leave them be! PLEASE!! They're innocent! If you have any kind of human heart at all, let them go!! _That's what she wanted to say, but she still could not speak. She opened her mouth to scream these things, took a deep lungful of air, and began hiccupping wildly.

The droids closed the gap between them and the Tsukinos further still, and Usagi saw their arms changing … becoming longer. Fingers melted into the palms. Palms elongated until the whole arm had become a bone-white javelin. They took their places – one in front of Kenji-Papa, with his chest puffed bravely out, his eyes unafraid, and one in front of Ikuko-Mama, whimpering now like a lost puppy.

Usagi could not watch. Yet she could not turn away. Something cold trickled down her face. What? Tears. She was crying already and nothing …. nothing had happened yet. The hiccupping became worse.

Death Phantom snapped his fingers.

At the sound, the droids lunged forward, their spear-like arms racing toward their targets. Closer. Closer. Until….

_Ttthhhhpp! _

Usagi screamed. She screamed, the image of her parents skewered through the middle like human shish kebab burned forever onto her retinas. She screamed, and when she ran out of air enough to continue on, the screams turned into a long drawn-out gargling. She thought she would loose her mind - standing there on the street, amid the droids and the smoldering cars. She could practically feel her mind slipping away into the abyss. Tilting. Teetering over the brink of insanity, one ounce at a time. It was-

"U. Sa. Giiiii."

She stared lifelessly ahead at her father. He was staring back at her in turn, still impaled by the droid's arm. A trickle of blood ran red from the corner of his mouth. "Usagiii." He repeated the name.

"Usa. Gi." Her mother now. The life was draining quickly from her eyes – eyes that were looking down upon hr daughter now with that kind of special motherly love. Her mouth spasmed upward in a jerky smile.

_"Mommy!!"_ Usagi cried out. She wanted to reach out to her mother, but the droids still held her arms pinned to her sides. _Let me go!_ She wanted to scream at them. _Can't you see you've won?! Just let me say my goodbyes! At least let me do that!!_

_"Daddy!!"_

They smiled down at her. Then their eyes rolled back into their heads in tandem. They each took a sudden gasping, rasping gulp of air, and then …. Their hands went slack. Their heads pitched forward lifelessly. Blood dripped onto the bus.

Silence. For a long while.

Kenji-Papa.

Ikuko-Mama.

Both dead.

In a matter of seconds.

Still not fully comprehending, Usagi glanced at Death Phantom. He stood there atop the bus like a stature, cloaked in blackness. A true demon.

There was a thump as the droids withdrew their arms and the bodies of Ikuko-Mama and Kenji-Papa collapsed upon the cold metal siding of the bus.

A thousand sweet memories came flooding into Usagi's mind then. Ikuko-Mama packing her lunch for her first day of school. Carrots, soup, and cake squares, it had been. She had gobbled up the cake and the soup eagerly enough at recess, but the carrots… And Kenji-Papa. Kenji-Papa giving her a bath as a toddler. Him singing to her while she splashed about happily amid the bubbles. Strange that these memories, so old and previously forgotten, would surface now. But then again, maybe not so strange. After all, there would be no new memories made between the three of them anymore. Her parents were dead. Dead. It didn't seem possible.

"Sailor Moon?"

Death Phantom.

Usagi looked in his direction, her face blank.

"Die."

_CHOOM! _

Some kind of invisible shockwave struck her full-force. It knocked her off from her feet and sent her sailing through the sky. Hurtling down toward the earth, the Eternal Sailor Moon disguise disintegrated into a thousand tiny golden stars. Usagi felt them brush lightly against her cheek, her arms, her eyelashes and thought: _How pretty. I must be in Heaven._ Then she crashed upon the gravel, skinning her knee and cutting her face. Sailor Moon was gone – if she had ever really existed in the first place. In her place was a teenage girl, dressed in a blousy pink and white stripped shirt and tan-colored skirt. Still dazed, the girl thought: _Where did the stars go?_ For they too had disappeared.

"Usagi?"

The girl mumbled a reply.

It was the bad man in the purple robe.

"Would you like to die, too?"

The girl opened her mouth and muttered something.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

_Flash! _Everything went a searing shade of violet and Usagi heard something big roaring toward her. _Fine. Let it come,_ she thought listlessly. _I want it to come. I've failed._

"Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber!!"

A huge explosion of colliding powers. The force of which drove Usagi about five feet across the uneven pavement.

Then came a voice out from the darkness: "Usagi! Usagi, come on! Get up!"

_Mamo-chan? _

"Kill them! KILL THEM!"

"Usagi!"

Too many voices. Too much noise.

Then she felt two strong hands under her armpits, lifting up off the ground.

Mamo-chan.

He took her up in his arms and they were away. Running away back into the city. Usagi's head jostled up and down as Mamoru fled away from the scene of the crime. She looked up into Mamoru's face, into the blue eyes behind the white domino mask and wept. Why were they running? There was no escape. The city belonged to Death Phantom.

Just to drive this point home, she heard his voice screeching behind her: "Run if you like, I'll find you eventually! You cannot escape me! You WILL bow to me and to the power of the Black! Poison! Crystal!"

Usagi tried to shut out the maniacal laughter, but did not succeed.

…

He watched them go, the sow and her prince charming. The poor dears. They really didn't have a clue. Oh, well. He would let them fret a bit before reeling them in. "Run if you like," he jeered after them. "I'll find you eventually! You cannot escape me! You WILL bow to me and to the power of the Black! Poison! Crystal!"

Smiling, he shook his head and sighed. They were going to make things difficult for him, he could feel it. Fine. It wouldn't be as fun, otherwise.

He looked down at the two bodies crumpled at his feet. Pity.

He looked out upon his teeming droid army. They were itching to get into some action. He nodded. "Secure the exits."

At once, three droids broke off from the main group, their hands outstretched like Hollywood zombies. As they neared the Rainbow Bridge, the air surrounding them began to hiss and pop. Weird purple-ish lights flickered about their wrists. They walked forward, coming to a stop at the point where the bridge merged onto land. Then the three of them joined glowing hands and –

The bridge suddenly exploded with a numbing roar. The cables holding the bridge up snapped like dry twigs. The white supporting towers toppled over like dominoes. Those cars that had been stuck on the bridge flew up into the air, some of them in flames. The explosion raced along the entire length of the overpass, consuming vehicles, consuming crossing pedestrians. Then the fiery remnants fell as chunks into the bay.

Death Phantom watched all this and nodded in satisfaction. Impressive. Such destruction with so little effort. Still, it would be only the beginning.

He levitated down off the bus and made his way through the droids. They followed him as he walked further into the city. He was the general, the droids – his fearless soldiers. They strolled leisurely through the chaotic city, eliciting hardly a backward glance from anybody else, until-

"Stop right there!"

"Freeze!"

"Don't move!"

The police were blocking his way. Several squad cars had blocked off the end of the street, their lights swirling, their doors swung wide open to provide cover for the officers crouching behind them. Some had their guns trained on the curious figures before them, while others raced this way and that, trying to clear away the curious onlookers who lingered about.

Police? Death Phantom was insulted. Where was the _military? _The tanks? The fighter jets? Surely they knew what kind of a threat he posed to them. And to stop him they had sent out their incompetent police force? How degrading! Well, they would learn soon enough not to underestimate him. They would learn as that girl Sailor Moon had learned.

He took a step forward. As did the droids.

"Stop it! Don't come any closer!"

Another step.

"I mean it man, don't make me drop you!" A trembling police officer had said this – a boy really, in a hotshot uniform, probably fresh out of high school. He had fear in his eyes. At least _he_ understood.

Step, step.

_"MAN!!"_ said the policeboy. He looked positively panicked now.

"He's not stopping," a bigger officer exclaimed. "Ready the tear gas!"

Death Phantom would not be insulted further. "No tear gas," he rumbled. He then reached out …. with his mind …. and seized the nearest squad car. He lifted it gently up off the ground until it floated there about six feet in the air. It's lights continued to spin, flashing red along the facades of the buildings lining the street.

The police followed the car as it caressed upward, their eyes big; their mouths open wide with stupefied amazement. The policeboy, in particular, looked about ready to pee himself.

Then the car went sailing into a KFC. Sparks flew outward as its neon marquee was seared in half by the squad car's hood. It went smashing down into the dining room at an angle. Those inside had not a minute to scream. For them, the end came fast and without any kind of buildup whatsoever.

"DROP HIM!!" Cried the fat one, now fully awake and comprehending. Oh, yes.

Smoke and powder flashed from the ends of drawn pistols. Bullets whizzed through the air. The sound of a hundred guns being fired at once filled the sky.

Death Phantom sighed and held up a single finger, as if he were bidding someone to be silent.

The bullets halted in mid-air. They were still spinning with all that pent-up deadly force, but they weren't going anywhere. They formed a kind of egg-shape around him, the closest one twirling a mere three inches from the tip of his nose.

The idiots in blue said nothing. Did nothing. _This_ had never happened before!

"It'll take more than your weapons of metal and fire to stop me!" exclaimed Death Phantom as he bent down and picked up a broken shard of glass from the ground. "Nothing can stop me, for that matter! I am invincible!"

Now he opened his Evil Eye. It appeared on his forehead suddenly, startling the gathered police officers into gasps. Its golden iris shone brightly out from the murky blackness. It regarded the police with a curious stare.

_Those of the White Moon bring disaster! _

The police reeled back in surprise. Who was saying that? Who?! A voice in the head? No escape! No escape!

_Under them, there can be no peace._

Everyone heard the message. It was being broadcast directly into their brains via Evil Eye wavelengths. And everyone received it. For a short time, Tokyo went silent and still as its inhabitants listened carefully to the telepathic words being beamed into their minds. Babies did not cry. Not a soul stirred. Even Usagi and Tuxedo Mask halted in their tracks as they listened.

The city. Quiet as death.

_But listen to me well, for I bring happy news! I am an envoy, a herald of One Much Greater! Embrace this dawning new age as I have done! Receive the mark!! _

With one swift motion, Death Phantom plunged the glass shard deep into his forehead, missing the Eye by millimeters. Blood spurted. He twisted the glass down, to the right, to the left … carving joyfully. Blood ran down his face and dripped from his chin.

_Receive the mark as I have done!_

Now he finished. He threw the glass aside.

_The mark of the_ Black _Moon._

He reached both hands to his hood.

_Receive it or die._

He threw the hood away.

And what the policemen saw made them scream and flee in terror.

Death Phantom chuckled – a sound very much like someone gagging. He traced a finger over the inverted crescent moon he'd carved onto his forehead. Uneven, but it still served its purpose.

He then noticed he was still encased in a egg of bullets and he reached out with his mind again, flipped them over 180 degrees and sent them flying anew. They ricocheted off buildings, off parked cars. Two struck people – one, a stupid little old lady in a kimono who hadn't listened when the police told her to move (she went down fast – it'd been a headshot), and the other struck a fleeing policeman square in the back. He went down on one knee, screamed in pain, got up again, and went back down – for good.

Laughing madly, Death Phantom recovered his head. He turned to his aides. Time was of no importance. He had eternity to play around with. He smiled. Everything was working out perfectly. True, he still did not have the Silver Crystal (the real Silver Crystal), but he was improvising quite nicely, he thought.

But the city had underestimated him. It would not make the same mistake twice. They were going to suffer for a time. Then they would cower before him and beg to take the mark. Fear was the best motivator.

An hour and forty-five minutes. That seemed like enough time to make a statement, didn't it?

Sure it did.

An hour and forty-five minutes to kill indiscriminately and then the weeding out would commence.

He smiled. _Time for a little-_

A little what?

Chaos, perhaps?

He laughed again.

The droids dispersed throughout the city.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"Akuryo TaiSAN!!"

Fire erupted from fingertips in a red geyser, crashing into the first wave of droids as they ascended the steps leading into the shrine's courtyard. The pasty creatures recoiled, but did not retreat. They continued to climb, their clothes now in flames, but otherwise unaffected by the attack.

Sailor Mars ran a hand through her long black hair in nervous uncertainty. What next? _This _certainly wasn't working. The things were surprisingly resistant. They bounced right back after any attack. Mars looked around the grounds for another kind of weapon or anything else to keep the things at bay long enough for her to form together an alternative strategy. She saw nothing. No, that wasn't quite right. She saw plenty. She saw the city falling apart around her. She saw fires burning far off in the distance, creating a stark orange horizon against the black sky. She saw droids – vast multitudes of them – prowling through the streets below like some unstoppable Gestapo, destroying everyone and everything in their way. She heard the sound of breaking class, of car alarms going haywire. She heard screams and cries of mercy.

In the space of only a few minutes, all of Tokyo had plunged into mayhem.

"_Eeeee!!!"_

Mars yelped as a flaming droid made a grab for her hair. There were dozens of them now on the steps. She quickly counted at least fifteen. Way too many for her to take on by herself.

No time for alternative strategies, then. The best course of action now seemed to be the tried and true method of just clobbering away. That was fine with Mars. Taking a step back from the top of the stairs, she ran a single finger in an arch over her head. "Burning-" The tip of her finger began to smolder. Fire once more ignited the air at Hikawa shrine, this time taking the shape of eight rotating circles that represented the eight corners of the world. "-Mandala!" With a loud _whoof,_ the circles erupted forward and flew at the approaching sand-figures.

Yelping with either pain or surprise (Mars hoped for the former, but suspected the latter), they backed off. There. Another five seconds of stability. She let out a pent-up breath of air. This just was _not_ shaping up to be her day. It'd all started at precisely 2:00 in the morning. She'd woken up from an already turbulent sleep to the cries of her grandfather. They'd been coming from his room at the end of the hall. Horrible cries. Gut-wrenching. Blood-curdling. Mars remembered feeling sick as she walked down the dark hall towards Grandpa's room. To think that those cries of pure childlike fright could be coming from _her_ strong, brave grandpa….

Hallucinations. He'd been having them all day long. Having them was pretty coming with his particular type of cancer. Especially toward … the end. Rei had always known that he was going to die, really, but as the moment inched ever closer, she liked to think that she had made her peace with it. She pictured Grandpa's last moments as peaceful ones – the two of them dressed in kimonos, sipping tea amongst a grove of cherry trees. And then they would declare their love for one another one last time before The End. That's how Rei pictured it. But now that tranquil vision had been shot to pieces.

Was this how it was going to end, then? Were Grandpa's last moments going to be ones of fear and terror and the sound of the city blowing up?

"Rei!"

What the? Sailor Mars frowned, tilting her head.

"Rei!"

Speak of the devil. It was Grandpa. He was calling for her. But why? Hallucinating again, most likely. He'd been doing it all day – screaming for her and then not recognizing her, pointing at the blank wall and blubbering on and on about monsters, asking for his mother …. the nonsensical ravings of a decaying mind.

"Rei!"

But suppose he wasn't hallucinating this time. Suppose, this time, the monsters were real. Maybe some renegade droids had made it inside the temple! Maybe they'd found some back way in and were now advancing upon Grandpa. Mars could picture it: their sandy hands reaching out for his neck, his chocking screams as they finished away with him….

She turned toward the temple. No flames. No smoke. But that didn't mean _they _weren't already inside. Sailor Mars then re-focused her vision on the steps before her. They were _still_ coming up! Didn't anything stop them? Their clothes had been burnt to ash from her continuing attacks – revealing bare their skinny white frames composed of sand and grain. Their legs continued up the shrine steps, their arms remained at their sides, their hands curled up into fists.

"_REI!!!" _Again, only more urgent this time.

She had to go, but she couldn't leave the front lines. And she couldn't be in two places at once, so what could she-

Ah.

Sailor Mars felt the edge of her lip curl into a devilish grin as she raised both hands into a v-shape in front of her face. Her dark eyes shimmered. "Mars Snake Fire!" Upon the utterance of the word, a trail of white-hot flames ran down her hands, taking the form of a vicious snake as it hit the ground. It arched its body into a menacing curve and hissed at the approaching droids. Its tongue darted out, creating the sound of a crackling log in a fire as it did. And it began to grow, both in size and ferocity.

But still the droids continued on.

_Oh, well,_ thought Mars as she turned to run. _If only they had brains. Imbeciles. _

She crashed through one of the temple's side entrances, not wanting to take the time to slide it open.

"Rei!!"

_I'm coming! I'm coming!_

Grandpa's door was just ahead. Mars crashed through it without a moment's hesitation, reducing it to a cloud of splinters and torn paper. Her hands and fingers poised themselves for attack as she tumbled into the room. Quickly, she scanned the room like a seasoned policewoman for any intruders. Any number of attack phrases lingered on the tip of her tongue.

But the room was empty. No rampaging droids. No nothing. Nobody except for Grandpa, sitting cross-legged upon his futon. He was staring at her, not saying a word – just regarding her with eyes that were now more alert than they had been in days. Sailor Mars licked her lips and looked down at the floor. What was going on? Why was he looking at her that way?

The answer came quickly. He didn't recognize her. The girl standing before him in the red star-studded uniform wasn't his Rei. He didn't know who she was, and know he was afraid. Any minute now, he would start screaming again. Maybe she should just leave for the time being. Maybe-

"Rei."

Sailor Mars looked up, stunned. Grandpa was looking directly at her -whatever magical disguise offered by her transformation now moot in the eyes of a dying man. He smiled and motioned for her to join him.

Still a little uncertain, Sailor Mars found herself kneeling beside him. What was she supposed to say? Was this the time for confessions? Should she tell him about her past as the Sailor Soldier of Mars or would that just lead someplace neither of them wanted to go? He knew now, at least. But did he really understand what that meant? Mars didn't know what to say.

But _he_ did, apparently. "It's okay. Don't be alarmed."

Mars scoffed and took hold of his hand, thin and trembling due to sickness. She shook her head. "I don't … I mean…."

"Ssh. It's my turn to do the taking." He chuckled lightly. "This may be the last chance I get."

"Don't say that, Grandpa." Mars shook her head suddenly, trying to clear away the tears that had been welling up. She placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to ease him back to bed. "You need to get some sleep, now. Come on. Just lie down."

He laughed softly. "In a few minutes, I'll be sleeping forever. Right now, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you."

Now the tears fell. Grandpa was saying his goodbyes. For him, the end was almost here. There was no denying it. Just one look at his haggard face and withered frame confirmed it. Looking at him reduced to such a state, inches away from death's door, was simply more than Mars could stand. After all the brave battles against supernatural enemies from the far reaches of hell-space, _this_ was what brought her low and threatened to end her once and for all – her grandfather's passing.

She sobbed loudly. "I'm sorry," she apologized, wiping her nose along her glove. "It's just that I thought I had prepared myself for this and now that it's here and really happening…" She laughed bitterly. So much for sipping tea amongst the cherry trees.

Grandpa squeezed her hand. "It's a natural part of life, sweetie."

She nodded. She knew that, but knowing it didn't really help.

"I'm not afraid and neither should you. Especially not now."

Mars choked back another sob. "What do you-"

"The city. It needs you now. It's in danger."

As if to hammer this point home, the high-pitched scream of the fire-snake could be heard echoing off somewhere in the distance. It didn't sound like the fight was going well.

"That's your destiny, isn't it, Rei? To fight until the last? To be a strong warrior?"

"No!" Sailor Mars cried out. She flung herself upon her grandfather, everything else forgotten – her pride, the fight outside. She was a little girl again. She took hold of his pajamas with clenched hands and buried her face in his sunken chest. "I want to stay here with you! I want to be a priestess here! That's always been my dream! Always."

Another soft laugh from Grandpa. He stroked a hand through her long raven hair just as he used to do years ago, when the formidable Rei Hino had been merely a little girl. "No," he said softly. "That's what you've always _assumed_. You're bigger than this place, Rei."

He coughed. Once. Twice. He seemed to be growing weaker with each passing word.

"I've always known that you would one day leave here and fly back to where you really belong – a place …. a place I can't even begin to comprehend."

With one shaking hand, he reached up and touched the red, star-shaped jewel embedded in Mars' gold tiara. "And I think now you're strong enough to take that journey."

From somewhere off in the distance, the sound of a door smashing open could be heard.

"So fly, okay?" Grandpa lowered himself back down upon his futon. He snuggled down deep under the cover, as if preparing for the eternal sleep. He closed his eyes. "Fly."

Hurried footsteps in the hall.

"…fly…"

And then Grandpa's chest ceased to rise.

Sailor Mars did not stir from her grandfather's side even as the droids barged into the room. She kept her eyes on him. He was gone. It was all over. He wouldn't be coming back. Mars felt a single tear slide down her cheek, but no more. Could it be that she hadn't grasped the entirety of the situation? Probably not. Grandpa, the only relative that she had ever really loved and trusted was gone. How would she function now? Could she find the strength within herself to continue on with …. this?

"I can bring him back, you know."

Mars did not turn around.

"Nothing is beyond the power of the Black Poison Crystal." It was Satoshi. He was in the room with her. "It can happen. He can be with you again. It all rests with you."

Slowly, as if in a trance, Sailor Mars swiveled her head around. Six droids had made it inside. The one nearest her had taken on the appearance of its master. From the shoulders up, it was a perfect replica of Satoshi as last she had seen him – dark, handsome and slightly aloof. Everything else below was nothing but sand. His brown eyes searched her face. "Oh, Rei. You are crying, my dear."

But she wasn't.

"The Black Poison Crystal can offer you happiness. And I can wipe away your tears."

The voice was a telepathic one. The lips of the shifted droid did not move.

"Accept my mark. Join my Clan."

Mars felt something brush by her leg. She looked down.

There, partially covered up by the futon, was a stack of ofuda strips. Had they been there all along? Somehow Mars didn't think so. She bent forward to retrieve them.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't pay the intrusive telepathic voice any mind as she counted the rolls. Six. There were exactly six. Mars smiled. She looked upon the face of her grandfather, now frozen in the same expression of peace for all time. "Thanks, Grandpa," she whispered. "I owe you one."

"Accept my mark," the voice urged.

A sandy hand fell on her shoulder.

In a shot, Mars was up – her eyes flashing, her long hair trailing out behind. She pushed the Satoshi-droid backward with a mighty shove. It fell on his back with a mindless screech, its acquired features shifting together like the swirling water in a toilet bowl.

"Time to fly!" Sailor Mars threw all six ofuda out at six different targets, and by fluke of wind, or by some miracle, they made all six targets. _"AKURYO TAISAN!!" _She screamed the Shinto phrase out with all her might, making sure that they all heard it. That Satoshi heard it, wherever he was. At that moment, the characters written upon the slips blazed forth with red light and the all six papers combusted at once, taking the droids along with them.

Sailor Mars ran through the temple and down the shrine steps, where the bodies of several Black Moon soldiers lay scattered. At the base of the stairs, however, she paused and looked back. She clasped her hands together in reverence and bowed to her

grandfather's memory. It was time to fly, for certain, but…

"But I could've never done it if you hadn't given me the wings."

And then she was gone, running into the fiery war zone, like the brave warrior she was. Two ravens that had been perched atop the Hikawa temple set off after her, but did not seem able to keep up.

…

"Please! Don't come any closer! Please, I have a baby with me! _What's the matter with you?!_ PLEASE!!" She brought her infant child up to her face and cried out in fear. The thing had backed them into a narrow alleyway. A young mother and her seven-month old baby boy. Nameless, faceless. Just two more added numbers to a growing list of fatalities.

The mother looked about for a means of escape. There was nothing. Overturned trashcans littered the alley. There was a fire escape ladder hanging from the building to the left, but it looked far too high up for her to reach. There was no escape, then. Ordinarily, the mother, being the feisty, no-nonsense woman that she was, would've put up a fight at least – but not this time. She was not alone. She had her little boy to consider. Maybe….

"Look," she licked her lips and forced herself to peer into the face of the creature. "Look, okay? J-j-just-"

It was walking toward her. It wasn't even stopping to hear what she was about to say.

"S-s-stop, okay? J-just listen, okay?" She felt her back hit up against the brick dead-end of the alley. Why wasn't the thing stopping?! "There was something about a … about a…" _Oooooh!_ She couldn't remember the exact wording! Then it hit her. She snapped her fingers. "About a mark, right? Well, give it to me. Okay? If I get this mark or whatever, you won't hurt my baby, right? I-"

The figure suddenly bounded for her, crossing the distance between them in one sort leap. It reached out a hand, and the mother thought that it meant to strike her – which would've been okay. She could've handled that, being the tough, n-nonsense woman she was. But then she saw that it was reaching for her baby, and she began to scream.

She turned quickly to the right, more of a reflex reaction than a calculated maneuver. The arm of the thing missed her baby (who was squealing bloody murder by now), but caught his blanket – which it snatched away. The mother screamed with a mixture of emotions – fear, certainly, but also elation that she was now finally free to get out of the alleyway at least. She spun about and made a beeline for the alley's opening.

Just as she reached it, and in the split second before she stepped out onto the

street, a flaming tractor-trailer truck flew – literally _flew_ by her, close enough that she could read the lettering on its side (Deep Valley Seafood) and feel the searing heat of the flames. The massive fireball plummeted down into a batch of wailing would-be escapes, silencing their screams forever with an explosion and the shattering of gas.

The mother cried out anew as the force of the eruption blew her hair back. She retreated back inside the alley just in time to see a massive throng of those creatures come marching up the street.

She saw _her_ creature, the one who had been on her trail since three blocks back – it was walking leisurely toward her, the lime-green baby blanket discarded on the ground. She saw and she began to cry. Staying in the alley meant death. Making a run for it was suicide. What else could be done?

She looked down at her baby and made an effort to control herself for his sake. Her baby that would never grow up, would never play any sports, never drive fast cars, never get married …. his final moments should be ones of looking into his mother's face without fear. So the mother tried to smile and blink away the tears that persisted in failing. She took her son's plump hand in hers and tried to divert his attention away from the thing that was approaching. She made silly faces. She tickled his cheek (something that had always made him burst into uncontrollable bouts of happy hysterics, but which now only elicited more crying). She attempted to tell him a quick little story. But it was hopeless. Even at his young age, even barely aware, he knew that this was _it_.

The mother buried his face in her chest so that at least he wouldn't see it. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "So, so sorry."

The creature was upon them now. It raised one arm – an arm that had somehow transformed into a shimmering axe – high into the air.

Thunder rumbled distantly. _A cinematic end to the whole mess,_ the mother thought absently. _Murder amid thunder and lightning._

Just then – just as that axe-arm was swinging down, there came a tremendous crash of thunder, louder than anything the mother had ever heard in her life, and a bolt of greenish lightning descended from the heavens, striking the sand-creature right where it stood. She saw its outline visible through the sparking pillar, jerking like a puppet, and then the lightning blinked out and the thing dropped to the ground – a smoking charred mess.

"Go!"

A voice. But who else was in the alley besides… The mother looked around. Her eyes settled upon a tall, lean figure hanging from the fire-escape ladder that had been too high for her to reach. It was a woman. No. A girl. A teenager. Her curly brown hair was done up into a messy ponytail and she was wearing the most bizarre costume – a green and pink number that kind of sort of resembled a sailor fuku, the kind of uniforms girls wore to school.

Now who in the world….

But as the mother's eyes scanned over the outfit, a thought occurred to her. For years, rumors had been circulating around town about mysterious female crime fighters who went by the name of Sailor Soldiers or something like that. The mother had always assumed the girls to be nothing more than urban myths – like that tired old story about alligators living in the sewer, or the one about the escaped convict who had a hook for a hand – but now she believed. Completely. She had only heard of two, though. Sailor V and Sailor Moon. Which one was _this _one? Which-

"Hurry! Wake up, lady! GO!"

One look in the soldier's eyes was enough to convince the mother. She threw up a hand in thanks as she hurried out onto the streets. Almost instantly, a gang of droids began a dash toward the fleeing mother and baby – a group from the right and a group from the left. Like a vise, they encircled them quickly. The mother screamed. The baby cried.

Sailor Jupiter leapt from the ladder and down into the alleyway. "Sparkling-" There was a motorized zipping sound as a tiny antenna extended from her tiara. "-Wide Pressure!" With a sizzling _pop_, two balls of condensed lighting formed in both hands. Grunting, Jupiter threw both of them with such speed it would've put any professional baseball pitcher to shame. They flashed up into the sky, then dropped down low. Following the ground now, they split off in two different directions. One went for the droids assembled to the left, the other – to the right.

_ZZZZZZZZITTTTTTTTTT!! _

The atmosphere charged with electricity. The false night sky became aglow with green, almost white light. And when it flickered out, there was the mother and baby – safe and sound, amongst a pile of collapsed droids.

The mother nodded her head toward Sailor Jupiter and then disappeared around a corner. Jupiter chewed on a gloved finger as she watched them run. Should she have gone after them? The entire city was one giant pit of destruction now. Where would they run to now that no place was safe?

The baby's face flashed to mind.

She'd just made up her mind to follow them and act as their personal bodyguard when two powerful hands gripped her around the neck. She gasped, caught totally off guard and struggling for breath. She tried a sort of awkward kick, but failed in hitting any target. Then she found herself sailing backwards. Through the air and into a metal garbage bin.

Gasping with the pain that was shooting through her back, she flipped her ponytail aside to see who had attacked her. The droid. It had shaken off her lightning strike and was now ready to make up for lost time.

It charged forward, arms outstretched – the left one still in the shape of an axe.

Jupiter ran forward, too. But with a smile on her face.

Shrieking animal-like, the droid took a swing. But missed. Jupiter laughed at its poor judge of distance and tackled it, ramming all her upper body strength at its torso. Together they went hurtling into a brick sidewall. The droid screeched again. It jerked its featureless head violently, but could do no more than that. Jupiter had it pinned.

Once it became clear that it could not push the girl off, it decided upon a different tactic. Its head changed shape to become the head of a grizzly bear. It snapped at Jupiter's face, the saliva dripping from its black snout. But it could not reach. Then the bear-head became a dead-eyed shark, then a hissing cobra. And still it could do no more than intimidate, and even that it could not succeed at. Sailor Jupiter was unfazed.

Bored, she decided to put an end to the pitiful one-sided fight.

"Time to take out the trash," she said pleasantly. And with that, she threw the heavy droid effortlessly over her head, sending it crashing against more garbage bins.

She smiled and dusted off her hands. Once again, the creature was out of play.

_Time to take out the trash? _Jupiter rolled her eyes. What a bad knock-out line. Cliché, much? Eh. If she'd had more time, she could've come up with something better. She looked out onto the street. The droids there too were beginning to stir. _Fabulous. _Maybe she could make up for her previous attempt.

The street fight lasted only a few precious minutes. And thanks to the adrenaline pumping through her veins, those minutes seemed to be mere seconds. It had been kind of anti-climatic, really. One little Oak Evolution had taken out all of them. They'd gone down so quickly; she didn't even have time for that zinger she'd planned.

Oh, well. Jupiter placed her hands on her waist and took a whiff of the air. The smoke in her nostrils gave her strength. The taste of blood in her mouth provided her with courage. She couldn't help but smile. She was having the time of her life. She felt high as a kite – totally tripped out on good old-fashioned droid carnage. Deep down she knew it was wrong of her to get so excited. It was inappropriate, to say the least, when so many people were dying. Still, she had no control over her hormones. Fighting bad guys was what kept her going. She was the fighter of the team. She liked the feel of bones breaking as her fist collided with a face.

Was there anybody else to save? Didn't look like it. Not on this street, anyway. Jupiter ran down another. Cars parked alongside the road and those that had stalled in traffic were aflame, signaling that an attack unit had already swept through this area. Too bad. Butt-kickin' Jupiter needed some action, dang it!

She was about to turn around when she noticed something crumpled at her feet. A body, curled around a bent stop sign. A woman. Jupiter bent down to inspect the corpse. The hair, the clothes … she knew this person. How she knew, she wasn't certain; but she knew – or _had_ known the woman. Jupiter rolled the body over. Its dead weight shifted and the face appeared. Then it struck her. And when it did, she had to stifle back a scream.

It was the mother. There was no mistaking those eyes. Eyes that were now open wide again in death. Bits of dirt and grime spotted the whites. The mouth was open. A few teeth were missing. A blow to the head, it looked like. The baby was nowhere to be found.

And with this discovery, all the fight left Sailor Jupiter in a rushing tide. The adrenaline ceased. Her smile was nowhere to be seen. She crashed. Dumbstruck, she reached out and closed the mother's eyes. There. Now she looked like she was asleep. Well, except for that tremendous gash on the side of her head. Jupiter had to turn away. How could she have been so blasé? So cocky? This wasn't some game! This was no computer simulation! People were dying – losing their lives right and left! The city was burning to the freakin' ground! This was real. All too real.

She stood. Stone-faced, she went over a mental list of those people she cared most about. Ami was at the hospital; Minako was still at school, Rei, the temple, Usagi, at her house, most likely…. Down the list she went until she reached the end. Everyone was accounted for. But still, something nagged at her. Was she forgetting somebody? She thought so. But who?

_Oh, come on! You know who!_ Her mind scolded.

But she didn't.

_Please. Crown Arcade? The Arcade_ guy_? Ring a bell?_

"Motoki!" As soon as the name jolted to mind, she was off. How could she have forgotten about him of all people?

Rooftops served as the preferred means of travel. Things were much too congested street-level. People fled on foot, screaming for help that would not come, as droids cashed them. Glass shattered. Every so often, there would be a titanic explosion that sent everyone collapsing upon the ground. Every piece of green foliage seemed to be on fire – the grass, the trees, everything. Sailor Jupiter saw all this, but was forced to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to it all. Motoki was the main concern now. His boyish face kept pushing its way to her mind – his tussled hair, his kind eyes. And then the mother's face would crowd in on his. Her dead face. The face of a lifeless body with its blank stare.

She had to hurry.

Mercifully, Motoki's street hadn't been touched. All the buildings lining it, the carcass of Crown Arcade included, were still standing. At least for now. Sailor Jupiter dashed along the road, heading for Motoki's apartment. A few people walked aimlessly about. One man, weaving along drunkenly and carrying an empty beer bottle, called out an obscenity to Jupiter as she ran by.

_That's one way to escape,_ she thought.

There! Up ahead! His building! She ran inside and up the stairs. Got off on Motoki's floor. Found his apartment. Pounded on the door.

"Get away!!"

_CHOOM! _

Wood splintered with a bang as a large hole appeared in the door. Gunfire! Jupiter jumped to the side, heart pounding. At least he was inside. "Motoki! Open the door! It's me!"

From within the door came the sound of several locks being disengaged. A chain slid out of place. The door opened wide and there stood Motoki, in jeans, a white t-shirt … and wielding a massive, sawed-off shotgun. He pointed the gun at Jupiter, as if he couldn't trust his own eyes, then lowered it with relief. "Makoto! _What_ is going on? It was all quiet one second, then everything's blowing up the next!"

Sailor Jupiter pushed past him and into his unit. It was as messy as before. "Never mind that now. Where's Unazuki? We have to get out of here. Fast. The droids are on their way."

"Droids?"

She waved an impatient hand. "Those creatures! We can't waste time! Where's your sister?"

He called her and she appeared, hiding behind a doorway – her eyes wide at the sight of Sailor Jupiter. With her red hair sticking out all over the place, her clothes askew, and that expression of terror on her face, she looked thoroughly unhinged.

"Come on!" Jupiter yelled at her, extending a hand.

"But…" Unazuki looked at her brother. "But our parents went out a while ago to sign some papers or something. They haven't come back yet. I don't think … I don't think I should leave until they get back."

Time was running out. "They're dead!" Jupiter growled. "Now come with me if you don't want to be!"

Unazuki flinched. She seemed to be in the process of retreating into a back room when Motoki rushed forward and grabbed her. "Let's move," he said.

The three of them ran down the empty hall and down the stairwell and back out into the city.

But they hadn't been quick enough. The droids had already made it. There were nine of them. Purple electricity surged through their hands, blasting everything within range to bits. Parked cars rose into the sky, catapulted by fire. Facades of buildings fell out into the street as bits of brick and metal. And then, one of them, the leftmost one, pointed a finger at the former arcade building. A tiny wire of energy ran from the finger toward the building. And it exploded into a huge fireball. Jupiter could just make out the top floor within the debris cloud as it sunk to the ground. And then it was gone. Nothing more than a pile of meaningless rubble. The container of so many years worth of memories, reduced to nothingness. At least before, the building itself had remained. Now….

Beside her, Motoki swore. He pumped his shotgun. He took a step forward.

"Hey! Don't!" Jupiter grabbed him by the neck and hauled him back. He had tears in his eyes. He seemed enraged, madder than she had ever seen him. But she could sympathize. To see your family business go up in smoke must be hard. He struggled in her grasp for a bit, but soon deflated. Jupiter ran a hand through his hair. Smiled. "Wouldn't want you to waste your shells," she explained.

He nodded and grinned back. Then, with Unazuki in tow, they raced away, leaving the burning arcade and fruit parlor at their backs.

…

The harsh glow of overhead fluorescents made the emergency room of Tokyo University Hospital seem like a haven compared to the flashing smoke-drenched world beyond its sliding entry doors. It was chaos inside, with doctors and nurses whizzing about, frantically tending to patients – but one got the sense it was a _controlled_ disorder. Nothing at all like outside.

Ami had arrived there shortly after the first explosions. The ER's population didn't really get out of hand until after the sun went down. …Or snuffed out, or whatever it did. _Then_ people began to panic – hurting themselves and others in careless accidents. Motor vehicle crashes, mostly. Then came that telepathic message speaking of a mark and threatening death against anyone who would refuse it. Once that had happened, the city collectively freaked. Ami included. The "mark" could only mean that inverted black crescent moon – the symbol of the Black Moon Clan. Back again after all these years.

At first, Ami was determined to help out in any way that she could: assist the doctors and nurses, but not take over. However, that soon proved to be impossible. They needed her help. With the wounded more or less a constant stream through the doors, the ER personnel quickly found themselves outnumbered. Within the first half hour of her arrival, Ami quickly found herself attending to the ailing. It did not bother her in the least. To be perfectly honest, she probably knew medicine better than any of the other staff. Actually, she knew she did. Not that she would ever dream of saying so. In any case, it proved a funny sight – a teenaged girl in a sailor-suited school uniform, moving betwixt white-coated middle-aged professionals, tending to patients, administering medication. Nobody said anything about it, though. Everyone at the hospital knew who she was: Ami Mizuno, girl genius extraordinaire. More than capable. Most were a bit jealous.

"I'm afraid."

Ami tried her best to smile at the boy lying on the stretcher before her. She'd been treating this particular patient for some time now. Based upon his wispy beard and small frame, she pegged him to be around 16 years of age. Bruised and bloody, she'd also known at a glance that he was going to die. He was going to be a fatality, no matter which way you sliced it. She could tell by his eyes.

"It's going to be alright," she lied easily. She brushed a strand of curly hair out of his eyes in a motherly fashion. "Just relax. Nothing's going to harm you."

The boy gulped. Strained for breath. "Those monsters, th-they're-"

"Ssh." Ami placed a few fingers on his cheek to quell him from reliving the incident that brought him here. She'd heard it at least three times before. He'd been walking home from some karaoke joint when the sun went black. Then, out of nowhere, droids attacked hi, beating him neigh senseless. Thinking him dead, the droids had moved on, leaving him on the street. That was when some kind-hearted passerby had brought him to the hospital. A stranger. Ami played the scene over and over again in her mind. The story renewed her faith in humanity – that even amid destruction and even at the risk of personal safety, there was someone, at least one person, who was out there acting unselfishly even at a time like this.

Ami shook her head. She wished she were out there. Sailor Mercury defending the innocent, fending of the monsters. But she was still doing some good. The more she remained in the ER, the more she came to understand that she didn't have to be out there in full fuku to make a difference. Instead of using her power of water and ice to save lives, she was now using another power she possessed – her knowledge of medicine and her own kind, caring nature.

Something exploded rather nearby, shaking the hospital. There was a deep, bellowing _thoomp_ sound, quickly followed by the familiar tinkle of shattered glass. Doctors screamed alongside patients. Somewhere, a baby began to wail. Panicked whispers ran through the severely cramped attending area. And that sense of controlled chaos began to fray. Soon, even that shaky idea of order would collapse. Ami could pick up on it in the air. It seemed to crackle with unreleased hysteria. All it was going to take would be one more explosion or one more story about the murderous sand-monsters prowling the streets and everything would ignite like a powder keg.

Someone was crying for help close by. Ami turned her head toward the sound. About five cots away, an injured man was screaming his lungs. He was in severe pain, by the sound of things. It was a wonder that he hadn't lost consciousness what with the loss of blood and the massive, iron pole sticking straight through his right leg. Half his body was leaning off the gurney, the right half. His injured leg dangled a good foot off the floor, dripping blood onto the tile like a stopped-up faucet. A haggard-looking nurse swept by him carrying a tray of syringes. He screamed at her for help, but she kept on past. A doctor zipped by soon after the nurse, yelling something to someone else across the room. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, and he did not see nor feel the tired hand scrape against his trouser leg in a desperate, silent plea for help.

Ami had to look away.

She felt a hand on hers. Weak. Light as a tissue. It was the boy. The dying boy. "D-don't leave me, okay?"

Ami frowned comically, as if overly offended. "I wouldn't dream of it." This was the truth. Even with the injured filling every available square inch, she would not leave this boy. Dying though he was, she would not cast him aside.

"Promise?" There were tears in his bloodshot eyes now.

She shushed him as if he were talking nonsense.

"How did this … this … t-t-this happen?" He asked helplessly to the bubbled, popcorn ceiling.

"Maybe it's a dream," Ami offered, rubbing his hands, trying to stimulate blood circulation. "Think about it: sand-monsters destroying Tokyo, the city in flames. It sounds like the plot for the next _Godzilla_, wouldn't you agree?"

A slurred laugh. "Yeah. And any minute now, he'll rise from the sea to save us all, right?" Laugh. Cough.

"You've figured out the plot!"

The smile broke on his face and he turned his sights on her. "Am I going to die?"

"No." Ami replied.

He looked away. Maybe she'd answered too quickly.

The screams of the man with the pole stuck in his leg began anew.

"Man, this s-sucks," Ami's patient muttered. Then, with surprising strength (the last of it, most likely), he threw both arms down on his cot, making it bounce. "This really _sucks! _I'm only fifteen and it's already … already over ya know?"

Fifteen. Off by one year.

"I've never kissed a girl, nev-never anything _else_, never e-even had a girlfriend and now…" He sniffled. His lower lip fluttered. "I want my mommy."

Ami's heart broke. "Well, you know, I just happen to be single myself."

The boy wiped away a tear, suddenly embarrassed.

"And I've had my eye on you ever since they first wheeled you in." Ami giggled girlishly – something she never did, but under the circumstances she thought she could feign a bit of silliness. "So how about it?

"Yeah, okay," the boy said. "Name's Takanori."

"Ami."

He laughed again. It was a good sound to hear. "When this is o-over," he said, "wanna catch a movie? My treat."

"Sure," Ami said. "Do I get to pick?"

"As long as …. as long as it's not … not some stupid chick-flick."

Ami laughed and patted his torn face. "Fine. Compromise is essential in any committed relationship."

Takanori grinned like the little boy he was. "Wow. I'm dating a doctor. ….Dating a doctor…."

He died six minutes later. Ami noted the time of death on his chart. Once finished, she bent over him to pull the sheet over his head when a series of shudders coursed through her body. She fought to remain in control, fought to retain that classic doctoral sense of detachment. But failed. She was in tears as she wheeled her boyfriend away so that a new patient could take his place.

And then, she too, was moving on. This time, to the screaming man with the pole in his leg. He let loose with a new barrage of pleading and begging as she neared him. He grabbed hold of her arm and refused to let go. "Help me! Please! _Please!!_"

"I'm here to look after you now." Ami gently placed the man's arm over his chest so that she could assess his condition. It looked like the pole had gone clean through the leg. The loss of blood wasn't as bad as it had looked from afar – the pole was corking things up pretty well. A non-fatal injury, in other words. But the real danger would come later when the protrusion had to be removed. Then there would be a real risk of bleeding to death.

The bones broken by the rod were the tibia and the fibula. They'd been snapped like two twigs. Ami knew this without having to read his chart. But there was one thing she could only find out by reading the report: the name of the bumbling oaf who had left the man all alone. Ami snatched the case-file, as it were, from the end of the gurney and quickly scanned through it. Though smeared with blood, the name of the attending physician stood out like a forgotten clue left by a murderer.

Dr. Kenzo Imura.

The name meant nothing to Ami Mizuno – only that this man had abandoned his duties and had left a patient to suffer alone and afraid. This was a most serious sin in Ami's eyes. Wanting to take charge of the situation herself, but realizing that most doctors were pretty territorial with their patients, she flagged down a nurse from across the room and proceeded to interrogate her.

"Dr. Imura," Ami spat the name through clenched teeth. "Have you any idea where he is?"

The nurse swallowed and looked at the yelping man writing on the gurney. "I-is there a problem?" She asked, wringing her hands.

"I would say so! He's this man's attending physician and he's been gone for the last ten minutes! I know because I've had to listen to his patient's screaming go unanswered for all that time! Now where is this Doctor Imura?"

The nurse looked as if she were about to cry. Ami sighed and shook her head. She was getting too worked up. There were too many sticks in the fire, you might say, and now she was taking out her frustration on innocent bystanders. That wasn't like her. Taking deep controlled breaths, Ami apologized. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take my anger out on you. But I would like to take it out on the man responsible. Now do you know where he might be?"

"Dr. Imura?"

Ami forced herself to nod. How many times were they going to circle the airport?

"Well, he … uh …. I think he said he was going to the bathroom."

"The bathroom."

"Yeah. He …uh…. that was fifteen minutes ago." The nurse began to chew on her lip. "He said he was coming right back. Maybe he had an accident?"

_Or maybe he just turned tail and ran like a coward_, Ami thought. That sense of faith in humanity that she'd been holding on to evaporated. She turned back to Imura's forsaken patient. He looked up at her, mouthing the word "help" over and over again. She turned to the nurse. Uncharacteristic anger flashed behind her blue eyes. "If you _do_ happen to see that man again – which you won't, I feel sure – but if you do, tell him that I have taken charge over his patient and that there is really no need for him at this hospital any longer. He's fired, to put it plainly."

The nurse nodded briskly and merged into the stampede, disappearing from view.

That felt good. Ami had no power to fire _any_one, of course (she was just a high school student filling in during a demanding situation, after all), but it felt good to just speak her mind so openly. She had a feeling that, should she make it through the day, she would end up being a bit more assertive than before.

Now she inspected the wound. Hmm. She would need two things. "I need a local and a saw! _Stat!_" Ami yelled the order at the top of her lungs. She needed to scream just to be able to be heard above the mess. On any ordinary day, the ER was noisy, but today it was almost a deafening racket.

But nobody paid her any attention. Everyone else had their hands full with their own subjects and worries. Indeed, the ER unit was so jam packed full of people that the staff was starting to open up the large broom closets and stuff people in there just so they could have room to put them. The sheer amount of beds and gurneys pilling up had created a maze of sorts, which severely limited staff mobility.

And the wailing. The crying. The screaming. No wonder Imura had fled. It was beginning to grate on _Ami's_ nerves.

But she would not allow herself to become tense. Stress invited mistakes. "I need a LOCAL and a CUTTING tool! Anybody! Come on!"

Nobody stopped. Not one person even looked in her direction.

She would have to do things herself.

Ami leaned in close to her man. "I'll be right back, okay? I'll only be gone for a second."

She turned to leave when a hand clasped hers. She looked down.

"You won't leave me?" The man asked.

"I won't leave you. You have my word." _Whatever that's good for these days_, she thought.

Ami scanned the packed unit until her eyes settled on the nurses' station way back in the rear of the room. Its circular information desk and row of computers were just barely visible over many heads. The anesthetics were stored there in a big metal freestanding cabinet. She had seen it before during one of her many informative hospital field trips she used to make during her spare time. She knew where it was, but getting there wouldn't be easy.

It seemed to be on the other side of the world as Ami pushed her way through the throng of nurses, doctors, and the injured. Taking even the smallest step forward amounted to an almost impossible feat. People ran into her, pushing her against the wall, or sending her toppling over onto an injured patient. But still she continued onward. She had lost sight of the station, but knew she was at least headed in the right direction thanks to an overhead directory pointing the way.

Somebody screamed. Grabbed at her arm. She glanced down to see a man with half his face seared off. One eye, sans eyelid, bulged out at her, trapping her momentarily in its gaze. "They can change," the man whispered. His hand contracted painfully, crunching the small bones in Ami's hand together. _"THEY CAN CHANGE! SAAAAAAAAAAAND!!!!!!!" _

She managed to wrench her hand from his grasp. She continued on, her chest fluttering, mad screams still reverberating off the walls and the ceiling.

They called for her – those crippled, those in the grips of mania. Voices high-pitched and imploring her to just stop a minute, just stop for a minute and offer them some comfort. They reached for her with bloody hands. They did not know who she was. Ami who? Girl genius what? They only wanted someone to stay with them and hold their hand and tell them that the world was _not_, in fact, going to hell in a hand basket.

Her long, sad voyage toward the nurses' station raised a very important question in Ami's mind: Could she do this? Was she up for a lifetime of this? She was brilliant, no doubt, but brilliance alone can't save a life. No matter how well she knew her stuff, she was going to have to deal with death on a pretty regular occasion. Sooner or later, she was going to fail. Death could be halted temporarily, but never stopped completely. Ami knew medicine front, back side to side, and up down all around – but what did that matter, really, in the long run? She had a kind heart and a caring persona, but wouldn't that be a hindrance later on down the road? Becoming attached to a fatal case could prove disastrous. She'd found that out only in the last few minutes.

At last she'd made it. The nurses' station. As she pushed and excused her way through the last remnants of the crowd, she decided it didn't matter. She was probably going to die tonight, anyway.

The appropriate anesthetic for her patient could be seen sitting behind the class door of the cabinet. Ami reached forward to retrieve a vial and a syringe when she thought she'd heard a strange noise. Like a far away whistling sound. Growing ever louder. Like a….

_Bomb being dropped? _

As soon as that thought was formed, an epic eruption rocked the hospital. Ami yelped in surprise and joined the rest of the standing staff in a tumble to the floor. Lights flickered. A few of the overhead fluorescents came crashing down. There was a tremendous metallic grinding sound and a snap. As to what this could've been, Ami had no idea. She tried to stand, wobbled, and had to brace herself against the nurses' counter. She felt lightheaded. Maybe she'd hit her head on something on the way down. No matter. It wasn't serious. She reached forward for the anesthetic again, oblivious to the new cries rolling through the unit, only to find her hand traveling through open space. The cabinet had fallen. Smashed vials of liquid painkillers and broken syringes lay everywhere.

Perfect. Ami, on her hands and knees now, began to sort through the disarray, looking for anything salvageable to take back.

"Interesting night, wouldn't you say?"

That voice. Ami placed it at once. It belonged to Dr. Ando, a close colleague of her mother's. Short, pudgy, and with a wiry beard quickly going gray, he looked a little bit like Santa Claus' long lost Japanese cousin. Always jovial, he seemed to be enjoying even this.

"I don't know if 'interesting' is the right word or not," Ami replied coolly. She wasn't in the mood for witty repartee.

"Don't let my callous insensitivity fool you. It's merely a coping mechanism. I'm really so scarred, I'm about to number one _and_ two in my pants. Did you hear all this talk about 'sand monsters'? Sounds crazy, but I'm inclined to believe it!"

Ami said nothing.

"Hey, I'll get this," Dr. Ando offered. He bent down.

"No, I have a patient-"

Ando nodded. "Screaming, bloody guy, metal thingy through his leg? I know. I'll take care of it. Right now your mom wants you."

That got Ami's attention. "Neurosurgery?"

"No. Burn unit."

She rose. "Okay. Are you sure you've-"

He rolled his eyes. "Little Miss OCD! Go on! I've got this all under control."

She stood, suddenly very weary. "Thank you."

As she began to walk away, Ando grabbed her arm, looked deep into her eyes, his smile gone – and said: "You're doing great. I'm very proud of you."

It was said with such seriousness that it put Ami off. _Things must be serious indeed when Ando resorts to heart-felt confessions._

The waiting room adjacent to the ER was just as packed as the unit itself. Family members mingled around in large clusters, speaking in unsteady tones. Every chair, every bit of available floor space was taken up. Ami wondered if Takanori's mother was there – the person he had called out to. If she was, she didn't know his fate. Outside, a jumbled heap of two vehicles (an ambulance and a compact-sized Toyota) smoldered where the former had run into the latter. She could see the wreck through the ER's cracked glass doors.

So crowded! So out of control! And with the ER unit filling up, it was only going to be a matter of time before the admitted spilled out into the waiting room.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ami cupped her hands over her mouth. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could please have your attention!"

As before, nobody paid her the slightest bit of attention. Walking through the waiting room door had somehow magically transformed her from a serious attending physician back into a meek and mild mannered schoolgirl. Well, she wasn't going to have that. She clawed her way through the room, hiked up her skirt so that she could hop atop a reading table and then, raising her voice to a near ear-piercing octave:

"LADIES and GENTLEMEN! If I may PLEASE have your ATTENTION!!"

Heads turned. Conversation ceased. Two thousand eyes now rested upon Ami.

She gulped. A small crack appearing in an otherwise controlled demeanor, nothing more. "If you would please move into the _main hospital lobby_, we would be very appreciative! Things are filling up very quickly and we may need this room to attend to patients! So if you would please move to the MAIN hospital LOBBY!"

And, lo and behold, they began to move. Slowly, like a herd of half-brained cattle, true, but at least they took heed to her words and didn't question her authority. _Or maybe, in times of crisis, all it takes is for one person to stand up and come up with a plan – no matter who the person is or what the plan may be._

Feeling big and powerful, Ami jumped off from the table. She joined the shuffling waiting room populace. But instead of heading toward the lobby, she made a break for the elevator. Then stopped. Weren't you supposed to take the stairs in emergencies? What if the power went out again?

She opted for the stairs.

…

Flying high above the city in his JASDF F-15J, Tsubasa Sato (decorated fighter pilot for the Japan Air Self-Defense Force) was quite surprised to find himself scared senseless, witless, and stiff.

During his six years so far with the military, he had seen his share of strange things. A few years ago, his squadron had been one of the first to be called in to handle that mysterious accident at Triangle Delta. They'd gone in, much like this situation, without knowing all the facts. All they'd known was that something had happened at Infinity Academy – a series of explosions that placed the surrounding area under martial law for a time. And while that in itself wasn't too strange, the reports afterward concerning "bizarre creatures" perhaps steaming from "genetic regression" proved strange enough that Tsubasa had lost more than a few nights' worth of sleep. Even know, however many years later, he became shivery when thinking of the Triangle Delta incident. According to other, more varied, reports, the school had been conducting strange human experimentation. Experimentation mixed with _witchcraft_. Of course these "findings" were showcased on the front of those tawdry supermarket tabloids, but Tsubasa was of the opinion that behind every over-the-top fabrication, there had to be some truth.

Witchcraft, monsters, and illegal genetic experimentation, oh my. Strange crap.

But this promised to take the cake. First with the sky going dark in the middle of a noonday, then with the telepathic message bespeaking of marks and "black moons". Yeah, this was gonna be a real dozy; Tsubasa could feel it.

Through the dirt-speckled glass of the cockpit, he saw Tokyo sprawled out below like the main course of some fantastic dinner party. It was on fire. Some parts looked better than others, but as a whole, it looked bad. Many buildings had collapsed. Whole blocks had been decimated – nothing more than flat squares of carnage amongst skyscrapers. From such a high vantage point, it looked as though lava was pouring through the streets, but he knew it to be only fire.

He banked to the right. There was Tokyo Tower, the only recognizable landmark he could make out, standing strong and defiant above the fluttering ash and smoke. And a little ways beyond that, the hole in the ground that used to be Imperial Palace grounds. Tsubasa wetted his dry lips. The Emperor and his family were most certainly dead. They'd been briefed on that before they saddled up.

The Japan Air Self-Defense Force had any number of special tactical maneuvers against a terrorist threat at their disposal, but this was something else. Something for which they had not been prepared. Nobody knew exactly what to do. Right now the plan was just to observe and report back to base the extent of the damage.

Tsubasa's radio crackled. "Looks like all the bridges and major roads leading into the city have been attacked already," said one of his fellow pilots.

"Does anybody know how far the damage spreads?" Asked another.

They all sounded jittery.

"Yeah, um…" Tsubasa tried to picture the invisible lines that made up the 23 wards. "All of it looks pretty bad, but I'd say the worst is centered around Shinjuku with the outlaying reaches being … Adachi, maybe? I can't really-"

He broke off trying to describe what he was seeing as another fighter went zooming out in front of him – so close that it nearly clipped the nose of his aircraft. He swore loudly in surprise and jerked the plane wildly up to avert a mid-air collision. "WHAT THE - ?!?!?!"

He maneuvered his joystick so that the F-15J somersaulted and rolled back level. "Who was that?!" He screamed into his helmet's radio. "Maniac nearly ran into me!"

Something zipped by in his peripheral vision. Another plane. Cavorting in the air. Out of control. It banked right and left. It rolled over upside down and flew like that for several seconds before straightening out. And it wasn't just that one – the entire squad had broken apart and was now swerving all over the sky.

Tsubasa felt as if he were falling through a deep hole in the earth. "What's going on?! Somebody talk to me!!"

No reply.

Now the fighters were dipping toward the city.

"Base unit! Can you hear me? We've got something …. something-"

_EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!_

Tsubasa's mouth flew open in a silent scream as the radio blared forth a sound much like nails on a chalkboard. He had to force his eyes open. He couldn't loose control. But it felt like his brains were turning to jelly.

Then, just before his eardrums ruptured, the screeching ceased. A few blissful moments of silence ensued. Just enough time for him to notice that he was the only one still in the sky. The others had vanished. Tsubasa shook his head, trying to snap back into reality again. The last he saw of them, they were heading down …. into the city.

As he was trying to figure it all out, the cockpit went dark. Not totally black, but _dim_. At first, Tsubasa registered this as a lack of oxygen to the brain. He checked his mask to make sure it was strapped on nice and tight. It was. Then he saw a figure reflected in the glass before him. A figure not his own. It looked liked a free-floating mass of swirling robes with two tiny pricks of light floating within to serve as eyes.

He screamed.

_Today is a very special day for you. _

That voice again! That voice in his head!

He jerked downward on the joystick. Hard. The F-15J nosedived toward Tokyo at a 90-degree angle.

He tried to pull up, tried to do anything – but he could not relinquish his grasp on the control column. It felt as though another set of hands were clasped over his own. Cold hands, steering him off course.

_Don't be afraid. Embrace it._

Buildings rushed up to meet Tsubasa. Those invisible hands drove him through the steel and brick corridors of the city at breakneck speed. Tsubasa groaned, gritted his teeth together and tried to regain control over his plane and his body.

He succeeded in accomplishing neither.

He was flying by so close to buildings that he could actually see the occupants inside. A face was crammed into each window. Flying by as fast as he was, he couldn't make out their expressions, but he felt safe in assuming they were fearful.

Still fighting for control, Tsubasa felt his head rotate around. He tried to fight this, too, but it was useless. He was a puppet now. He could see, could feel, could hear the screaming of the people below, but beyond that, he could do nothing but sit back and pray that this was either going to end on a good note or end quickly.

Through the hazy image of the robed figure, Tsubasa saw a particularly large fire blemish on the streets that caught his attention. It was glowing bright orange down at a T-shaped traffic crossing. The explosion had taken out several cars and more than a few storefronts. People were running madly away from the scene with arms flaying about their heads. Tsubasa narrowed his eyes to make out the tail end of a school bus engulfed in the inferno, what looked to be like an oilrig, and a curious black triangular shape jetting up through the fire.

"Oh, no." Tsubasa looked away quickly, but not quickly enough to stop the image from registering in his mind.

A downed fighter. It had crashed into the street.

_Crashed?_ Tsubasa felt the awful weight over his now icy hands and thought better. The oilrig. That had been no accident. That plane had been hijacked (for lack of a better word) and had been piloted directly into the rig for the biggest explosion possible.

_Oh, yes._ The figure in the glass shuddered with laughter. _Oh, yes, yes, yes._

And then Tsubasa felt his hand move forward, the fingers flicking switches of their own accord. There was a puff of smoke from the underbelly of the aircraft and the missile was away. Tsubasa watched with helpless eyes as the surface-to-air projectile surfed through the sky, slicing through smoke and screams of terror. For one beautiful second, everything was intact – then the sleek white cylinder housing the explosives collided against the cold face of some office building or another, and everything went up in a fireball. Tsubasa saw the impact crater standing sharply defined against the front of the building, looking like a huge black wart, for only a split second before the plane veered sharply right, the tail end of the craft taking out many windows of the building behind.

He felt his fingers stretch out again in that same pattern. He didn't want to see, so he closed his eyes. But he heard the whoosh of the second missile as it departed, heard the clash and bang as it reached its target. Then he was turning over upwards and backwards, nearly out of his mind with the incredible g-force strain.

At least all the missiles were away. There'd been only two.

But to his horror, he felt himself squeezing the machinegun trigger. One eyelid flew open in an effort to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't. He clearly saw the bullets flying in a yellow streak from his F-15J into the fleeing crowd below. Ever few bullets were, in fact, blank – loaded with tracer rounds to make targeting easier. The yellow bands struck down people at random, tearing them to shreds. One victim, a woman with an armful of shopping bags, did a crazy little dance before going down. Another, a plump man wearing a _Gundam Wing_ t-shirt (Tsubasa saw all this in fantastic detail), simply hit the ground like a sack of potatoes in a puffy, red eruption.

This massacre must've gone on for some time. The F-15J was fully loaded. But finally, mercifully, the constant _rat-a-tat-tat's_ halted. The plane flew over a silent street, littered with the bodies of the dead and soon to be. Blood ran into the sewers like rainwater.

The plane made a left turn, then a right. It rambled over tops of buildings, clearing rooftops by a space of only a few feet.

He saw the hospital standing at the horizon, lit pale white by floodlights. The plane seemed to pick up speed.

_You've been a great help to me. I thank you for that. Unfortunately, you've nearly outlived your usefulness. _The voice in his head tried hard to keep a mild, disinterested tone, but Tsubasa heard a childlike titter of excitement vibrating behind it. He wondered how old this guy speaking to him was. Surely not as old as he. The voice sounded like a jittery little kid trying to recite his lines for a school play – speaking the words all right, but concentrating more on correct memorization. Only this guy wasn't nervous, he was exhilarated.

Tsubasa saw the hospital racing toward him: its white stone structure, the dozen or so ambulances flashing at its base. An edifice teeming with life. How many people rested inside, safe with the mistaken knowledge that they had found sanctuary within its walls? In times of war, hospitals and the like were safe zones. Both sides generally agreed that they were off limits.

And though this was war, it was unlike any war that had come before. All rules were off.

Though he knew better by now, Tsubasa tried to fight back against the alien force controlling his body. He just wanted to say he had tried. Of course, there really wouldn't be an opportunity for him to explain himself later. He only hoped his superiors would know that this hadn't been his idea.

The figure in the robes disappeared now, offering a clear, unobstructed view of the hospital. It took up everything else. Tsubasa saw a shimmery version of his fighter reflected in the glass windows, growing bigger by the second. He saw people milling about on the other side, completely oblivious. Rooms decked out with flowers and get-well-soon cards, nurses readying medication – he saw all this.

_How do they not hear me coming?! Somebody turn around! Somebody LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!! _

Only a few seconds remained. By a reflex reaction, Tsubasa found himself taking in a big gulp of air. He squashed his eyes shut. Clamped his teeth. Gripped his joystick, preparing for impact.

He hoped for empty rooms.

…

Up on the ninth floor, Ami negotiated the labyrinth of white walls back toward the burn unit of Tokyo University Hospital. To anyone else, the endless maze of white on white would've proved maddening – like a sterile version of some funhouse mirror-maze – but Ami found her way easily.

Things weren't as hectic up here as they had been down there, but a weird atmosphere hung in the air nonetheless. Ami tried to brush it off as she checked with each staff member to see if they'd seen her mother around. No luck until a doctor with a bad case of the stutters pointed her in the direction of the ninth floor east lobby. She thanked him and headed in that direction. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the stench of burning flesh proved almost overwhelming. Ami hurried along, forcing herself not to look into the rooms that lined the hall. Their doors were open, food carts parked outside a few of them. Burning flesh. Did she really smell that? Or was it an olfactory hallucination brought on by what she had seen in the ER coupled with the fact that this was the burn unit? At this point, either explanation seemed likely.

Abruptly, the white glossy walls gave way to modern brick. The tile floor became carpeted. Ami spied her mother tied up in a knot of conversation with at least a dozen people - some of them fellow doctors, others merely worried family members. Behind them all, positioned up against a huge oval window taking up one entire wall, were a few comfortably stuffed chairs arraigned in front of a low table. All were empty save for one. A young child of about four was sitting on her mother's lap, having a story read aloud. Judging by the frequent pauses in between sentences and the nervous way the mom's knee was bouncing up, Ami figured her to be part of the larger group, waiting for word on the condition of a loved one, perhaps.

Ami took a step behind a potted plant, smoothed out her skirt and checked all over for any signs of distress on her person. It wouldn't do for her mother to see her looking affright. The front of her white blouse was spotted with blood, but it had already dried, so there wasn't much she could do about that. So, taking a deep breath, Ami retied the bow of her school uniform, and stepped into her mother's line of vision.

Dr. Mizuno noticed her immediately. She nodded in her daughter's direction and quickly excused herself from the group. She looked tired beyond description. Nobody would've mistaken her for a fashion model the way she was looking now. Hair uncombed, eyes dark and heavy, mouth stretched into a line – she looked more like a resident of the psyche ward than anything else. The only clues to her high position were the white lab coat draped over the shoulders and the ever-prescient stereoscope hanging around the neck.

She took Ami by the elbow and led her aside to the row of water fountains. "You've been helping out, I hear." Her tone wasn't appreciative.

"Yes. Things became so overcrowded in the emergency room that I really didn't have a choice."

"Yes, things are getting pretty crazy around here, for lack of a better word. And that's why I want you to listen very carefully to the next thing I'm about to say." She clasped Ami by the shoulders to heighten the dramatic effect. "It's not safe here. I want you to go back home."

Ami giggled in a way that was meant to lighten up the mood. The look on her mother's face was so intense, it frightened her a little. "It probably isn't any safer there, either, Mom. At least here I can do some good. I can help out. I can help _you_ out if-"

"_AMI!_"

That silenced her. That put a stop to the giggles. Her mother was serious about this. Her strained face indicated as much. Apparently she wasn't ready to receive alternative suggestions at this moment.

Dr. Mizuno looked over her back. The group she had just come from was looking at her bug-eyed. And they had every reason to be startled. Now here was a sight! Saeko Mizuno, MD, freaking out.

She yanked Ami farther away. "Listen, alright? _Listen_ to me!"

Ami nodded.

"I can't much more of this. If I hear one more story about sand-monsters, I think I might just loose it completely. The - the city's going to hell, we're trying t-to attend to patients, but they're outnumbering us 4 to 1 at the moment. I have…" She pulled at her hair in exasperation. "I have all these things to worry about and I don't want to worry about you, okay? It's dangerous here and I know it's dangerous at home as well. I know that. But it's about to get a lot worse here, believe me."

"But," Ami sighed. "I can help!"

Dr. Mizuno took her over to the window. "What do you see?"

What Ami saw was devastation, buildings in ruin, and fires running unchecked. Normally, the view from the ninth floor was a breathtaking one, but tonight (or was it still technically "day"?), the hospital's parking lot – filled to overflow status – was as far as the eye could see. A cloud of smoke obscured everything else beyond. It rolled in like black fog.

"I don't understand your point," Ami said, turning away from the glass.

"My point is that the city is under attack. By whom, I haven't a clue. Maybe sand-monsters. But very shortly, everyone is going to end up here. Try to imagine how many people must be injured out there. They'll come here. The injured, the scared, the nuts, the people just looking for a place to rest – I'd say that within the next ten minutes, this place is going to be a full-fledged circus. I don't want you here for that."

She was leading Ami away to the elevators even as she was talking. "Now Dr. Ando will drive you home. When you get there, I want you to lock the doors and _keep_ them locked. Don't open up for ANYbody, do you understand?"

So much for the new, assertive Ami Mizuno. She watched her mother press the down button. It glowed red, indicating that the elevator was on its way.

Dr. Mizuno patted her daughter on the back just as the doors slid open. "I'll be home as soon as humanly possible."

She leaned in for a kiss. Ami tilted her head upward. Their lips had just touched when the room flared into noise.

"Is that a-"

"OHMYGODLOOKOUT!!"

Then came the roaring.

Then the shaking.

An earthquake?

"RUN! OHMYGODJUSTRUN!!!"

_Pterodactyl._ That was Ami's first thought, as crazy though it might've been, when first she laid eyes on the big black _thing_ hovering outside the big oval window. But that wasn't right. This was neither the late Triassic nor early Cretaceous period. But what else could you call…

Then it all locked into place. First of all, the thing outside wasn't hovering in place, it was growing bigger and bigger as it hurtled toward the window. Second of all, it wasn't a dinosaur at all. It was a plane. A military fighter jet of some kind. Ami didn't know which kind. She wasn't knowledgeable about aircraft.

It happened in slow motion, as it always does. She saw the doctor / family circle disintegrate. Some of its more alert members made a dash for a nearby stairwell. Others, however, remained glued to their spots, frozen with terror. The mother sitting by the window continued to read to her four-year-old, heedless of the fighter that was speeding up behind her. It would've been comical if it had been a movie.

Then the window shattered. The mother and child disappeared under the nose of the airplane. Ami felt hands grab her around the waist. Her mother? She couldn't tell because she was flying through the air, her clothes ripping, her eyes shut tight against the incredible heat. Then she slammed up against something hard. A wall? A desk?

She was conscious of several bodies flying overhead. She could not hear anything save for a tremendous ongoing roar, but she could see.

She saw the room go red. Then orange. Then white.

Then black.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Motoki operated the shotgun while Jupiter manipulated the lightning. Together, they were able to carve out a clear, (moderately) safe path through the city's byways and highways. Unazuki, for her part, trailed along a few steps behind, looking around feverishly, jumping at even the slightest noise. As bad as things were, however, a certain kinship had been formed between Jupiter and Motoki. They formed a fantastic team – him covering her back while she blasted away anything and everything in their path. They operated wordlessly. No words had to be exchanged. They read each other's movements – their twitches, their moments of tension – and responded accordingly.

Being so close to Motoki was intoxicating. His sweat hung thick around him in a tangy bubble and Jupiter absorbed it through the nose like cologne. Every so often she would look back just to make sure she hadn't lost him and would wind up locked in place, staring at him. Whereupon he would give her a wink and a pat on the arm and off they would go again.

She wondered if he suspected.

"Hey, do we have a destination in mind or what?" He asked, once a particularly resistant batch of droids had been taken care of.

"The hospital," Jupiter answered back, unaware that this was where they were heading until it came out of her mouth. After rescuing Motoki and Unazuki, it made Jupiter nervous that Ami was out and about in her condition. Suppose a bunch of droids broke into the hospital and cornered her. How was she going to fight back now that she couldn't transform? Getting her out of the hospital completely probably wasn't going to be an option – Ami could be a pretty stubborn person when engaged in a cause she perceived as worthwhile. She would probably want to stay and help out any incoming patients. That was fine with Jupiter. While she wasn't crazy over the idea of Ami being surrounded by such a large group of people, she nevertheless acknowledged the fact that Ami could look after her own business. Surely she wouldn't object to her acting as a bodyguard, though.

Now with a course of action planned out, the threesome headed for the hospital, checking street signs along the way to make sure they were headed in the right direction. As the fearsome duo that they were, Jupiter and Motoki advanced forward, blasting Death Phantom's goons as it pleased them, until they spotted their destination dominating the next hill over.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Jupiter exclaimed.

Motoki did not move.

"What are you waiting for?" Jupiter grabbed an arm. "Let's move!"

Still, he did not put a foot forward. He seemed to be looking up at the sky, his gaze focused intently on something. He lifted a finger upward. "Uh, what's _that_?"

"What's wha-" Then Jupiter's mouth snapped shut as he saw what he was seeing.

Fighter jets buzzed overhead like drunken birds. They swooped and swerved as if avoiding invisible enemy fire. Jupiter counted four that she could see. They were flying low. Too low. So low, in fact, that the pilots themselves could be seen in detail sitting at the controls.

"They're out of control," Jupiter muttered. She kept her eyes zeroed in on the planes. That one in the middle, in particular, seemed awfully close to the ground. Almost like it was on a crash course with the street below.

It was.

Nobody had time to brace themselves. It happened so suddenly. One minute, the plane was up in the air, the next, it had disappeared behind some buildings, and then the street rocked and rolled as a thundering roar ripped through the air. The sky changed color, from black to raging red, as the fighter plummeted to the ground a few blocks away. A smoke cloud, looking like a mini nuclear mushroom, bloomed from the wreckage site.

Unazuki, who had been silent for a record four blocks, now broke into a new batch of hysterical screaming. She tried to join the other hordes of those fleeing on foot, but Motoki held her back. Her eyes crazed, her mouth twisted into an oval of horror, she buried her face into his chest, beating about his shoulders with her fists.

Sailor Jupiter did nothing. Did nothing but stare straight ahead, unable to comprehend, unable to think at all. Droids were one thing, but planes falling out of the sky was something else altogether. Now Death Phantom was using the innocent to hurt the innocent. He didn't care. Jupiter came to understand that, standing there on the street while the men, women, and children of Tokyo swarmed about her. He just didn't care. It didn't matter how old you were. Your gender was irrelevant. Death Phantom was not chivalrous. Death Phantom did not extend any mercy. In his view, you were either a droid, acting out his orders without question, or a casualty. He did not take prisoners.

_Receive the mark. _What did that mean? Jupiter assumed it was his plan to divide the city's population up into two groups – the droids and the casualties. But if that was the case, why was he attacking everyone so indiscriminately? What was his plan?

"Look out!"

Motoki. He was pointing to the sky.

Right. She had counted four. One down, three to go.

But now she could see only two. And one was headed down the same path as the one previous. Except instead of crashing into the ground, this one looked poised to ram into a glinting glass skyscraper. Both the pilot and those inside the building had only seconds before the collision. Jupiter had to think fast. As she saw it, there were only two options available. One: call forth a bolt of lightning to take out the fighter before it crashed into the side, or Two: do nothing. Each course of action had its drawbacks. Either way, there would be deaths. Under option one, the pilot would be killed, and by her own hand. Imploring option two, however, would result in the deaths of both the pilot and the countless people inside.

One death verses countless lives lost. When seen in those terms, there was really only _one_ option.

Jupiter stretched out her hands toward the plane like she was performing a salute to Hitler. She already knew the attack she was going to use. Oak Evolution. She would aim it toward the front of the craft, which would kill the pilot instantly. One single electrified oak leaf and the whole craft would come crashing down. Yes. Oak Evolution. Quick. Painless.

The fighter jet sliced through the air. The building remained where it stood. Any second now.

But could she really do this? Was she really willing to kill a man, even if it meant saving more lives? She didn't know. Hands outstretched, plane in the sky, she had frozen up. She didn't know what to do. Option one – kill pilot, save many. Option two – do nothing, many die. The one thing option two had over one was that it offered her to keep her hands free from blood.

Although … wasn't standing by and letting people die the same thing as killing them outright? Maybe not always, but in this case it was.

Option one, then. And may God forgive her.

She had already begun the hand gestures necessary to execute the attack, but the words that came out of her mouth did not match up with what she was planning to do. Instead of "Jupiter Oak Evolution", she found herself saying –

"Flower Hurricane!"

Rose pedals dotted the black sky. Pink stars. Swirling cyclone-like, they rushed up to envelope the jet, stalling it a scant few inches from the glass frontage of its target.

A victory cry trembled on Jupiter's lips, but she held it back. The fight wasn't over yet. Something – some unseen force – was trying to rip the jet back away. It was a struggle just to keep the plane in the air. Straining against the other force, Sailor Jupiter summoned up more roses. Now the jet could not be seen at all for having been swathed in a cocoon of pink pedals. And still the force fought back. It banged against the edges of Jupiter's subconscious. Scratching and clawing like a wild beast. A tug of war of the wills, so to speak. But Jupiter wasn't about to give in. She saw that mother lying in the streets again, bruised, bloody and dead. She felt the presence of Motoki and Unazuki at her back. Nobody else was going to die on her watch.

One gigantic mind-push more and the malevolent force blinked out of existence, freeing the plane from its grip. Dizzy after the mental scuffle, Jupiter guided the aircraft gently down to the roof of a nearby apartment complex. The roses faded. Sailor Jupiter smiled and leaned against a crosswalk to catch wind. Mission accomplished. Nobody dead.

_WHAM! _

Heat.

A flash of light.

The stench of smoke.

People shrieking. Pointing.

Sailor Jupiter felt her gut drop. The hospital was aflame. A puffy fireball slicked up the front of the building before dissipating into the air. Another plane. One that she hadn't seen. There had been four. While she'd been busy with the one, another had been heading for the hospital all along. Had that been the plan – _his_ plan? Death Phantom's? Or had it been merely coincidence? Jupiter felt her knees weaken. Ami. Ami was there. Had she been on one of the floors that the plane crashed into?

Only one way to find out.

Her face a mask of rage and determination, Sailor Jupiter whipped around toward Motoki. "I'm going. Stay. Here."

He nodded. He didn't try to persuade her to take him along. Good. If one thing annoyed Makoto more than anything else, it was men with delusions of grandeur.

It would've taken only a few minutes to cross over to the hospital on foot, but she didn't have a few minutes to spare. Instead, she closed the gap between it and her with a single flying sailor-leap. Before moving inside, she appraised the damage at a glance. Up close, it didn't look so bad. Nothing that would send the whole place crashing down, at least. Counting the stories, it looked as though the 9th floor had taken the brunt of the hit, with the floors above and below suffering only aesthetic damage – a few broken windows and discolored stone.

Bits of paper wafted down from the fiery cavity. The plane had stenciled its outline into the hospital as it had crashed on through, leaving holes where its wings and tailfin had sliced through glass and stone.

Jupiter turned her attention forward and stared toward the main doors, but was stopped dead in her tracks by a wall of curious gawkers pouring out of the same doors she wanted to enter. They milled about the base of the building, pointing up at the smoldering hole above them, talking in excited, fearful tones. They did not pay Sailor Jupiter the slightest bit of attention.

"Back inside!" Jupiter screamed at them, motioning toward the doors for emphasis. "Now!"

Frightened by her rough tone more so than the flaming gash nine stories up, they obliged. A few of them cast backward looks at her as they returned to the lobby, as if to say "And just who are _you_ to be ordering us around?" But none of them questioned her authority.

The lobby looked to be the perfect amalgam of the modern and the classic. Arched doorways gave the impression of being in a cathedral but rather than stone, white tile served as the building material. Heavy lights grouped in sets of four hung from the ceiling by brass chains, illuminating harshly the unruly scene below. The place was jam packed to the gills. Every available seat had been taken long ago and those arriving late had resigned themselves to sitting on the floor. The gift shop and cafeteria were open and were just as crowded. Jupiter could see people behind the glass walls milling idly about, buying nothing, eating nothing – just using the two open rooms for places to stand. The clamor of two thousand conversations going on at once was enough to drive anybody over the edge.

Okay. The stairs, the stairs. Where….

Ah. Jupiter spied a door labeled, aptly enough, "STAIRS" tucked into an alcove to the left of the information desk. She pushed her way through a cluster of bodies lined around the little cubicle, catching tidbits of the exchange going on. Basically, they wanted to know what the (bleep) was going on. Jupiter felt a pang of sympathy for the panicky-looking man behind the counter. They were going to eat the poor guy alive.

Jupiter opened the door marked "STAIRS".

Smoke filled the stairwell, choking off any breathable air. Looking up into the spiral, a fierce red glow obscured the upper floors from view. The fire. The smoke. A stairway _up_ to Hell. Jupiter ran up the steps quickly, but not at full speed. She was in no rush to find Ami dead.

She read the postings next to the doors. Floor 2. Floor 3.

Supposing there was even a body left.

Floor 4. Floor 5.

Ami. Ami. Call it a hunch, call it something more – a mental link shared between friends and teammates – but Jupiter could not shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to her.

Up. Up into the worst of it now. Floor 6, 7.

Now she paused outside the door marked "8". Should she go ahead and check this floor? No. That gut feeling told her that Ami had been on the 9th.

Floor 9. The smoke had become so intense that Jupiter had to put a hand to her mouth. She felt like gagging. She reached forward and tried the doorknob. Stuck. The intense had caused the door to swell in its frame. A series of popping and crackling noises could be heard coming from the other side. She tried ramming the door with her shoulder, but sill it would not budge. She had to take it up a notch, then.

Wordlessly, Sailor Jupiter pointed to the door. Lightning came hurtling down the stairwell, parting the dense smog. It sizzled over Jupiter's head and plowed into the stubborn door. A flash of green and the door burst into two slabs, which went sailing into the area beyond.

_Please let me be mistaken about this,_ she thought as she stepped across the threshold. _Just this once, I don't want to be right._

The fire had cleansed all detail. It seemed as though the room had been constructed purely by flame. It was impossible to make out anything more than vague shapes in the hazy red. That arch of fire over there might have been a doorway at one point, and that blackish block over there sort of resembled a desk. There were no bodies that she could see.

"Ami! AMI, can you hear me?!"

No reply.

Jupiter moved further into the inferno. Again, she called out the name. Again, there was no answer.

Something cracked overhead. Jupiter looked up just in time to avoid being struck by a falling chunk of ceiling. She felt a bite of pain on her leg. Part of the trailing green ribbon of her uniform had caught fire. She reached down and tore the ribbon off at a high point. It fell to the ground where it was quickly consumed.

Oh, where was Ami? Jupiter's gut told her she was here somewhere. However, it failed to expound on whether she was alive or dead. The chances of finding her alive didn't look too good. The room had been completely obliterated. Still, she wasn't going to give up that quickly. She was going to find her friend or her friend's body. Those were the only two ways about it. She wasn't going to leave empty handed.

Part of the ceiling had collapsed just left of where she was now, blocking off a whole other portion of the room. It was possible that Ami could be trapped somewhere on the other side. Sailor Jupiter ran over to the wall of rubble, careful to avoid the random spots of fire. The barrier looked pretty solid. Jupiter was just about to call upon another jolt of lightning, when she heard a moan. Tiny. Hushed. Barely detectable over the crackling pop of the all-encompassing fire. Straining for the sound to repeat itself, Jupiter shuffled over to its place of origin.

She heard it again – a whimper of helplessness rather than all-out pain. The sound was coming from under a pile of wood and metal rods that had once supported the ceiling. Jupiter raced over to the rubble mound. She tossed everything aside with nothing but brute strength, hoping, praying that the person moaning below was Ami.

The first thing she saw was a wrinkled mass of clothing – a white blouse tucked into a long navy skirt, a navy double-striped sailor neckerchief… It looked an awful lot like Juuban High's uniform. But school had let out a while ago. Why would anybody still be wearing it? And why here, of all places.

In the commotion of the situation, the obvious escaped her. But when the answer finally did strike home, Jupiter let out a loud cry of joy and scooped up the limp body in her arms. It was Ami! Ami had been wearing her school uniform earlier in the day! Just to make sure, though, Jupiter ran her eyes along the face. Black bangs obscured the eyes, but there was no mistaking that mug. It was Ami!

"Ami! Yo, Ami!" Jupiter shook the body. One of Ami's hands fell flaccidly to the floor. Was she… No, she couldn't be! She'd been moaning! Only a moment ago!

"Oh, no you don't!" Jupiter slapped a palm across her friend's face. "Come on WAKE UP!"

A fluttering of the eyes and Ami did just that, looking like a storybook princess awaking from a magically induced slumber. "M-mom?"

A smile graced Jupiter's lips. She laughed softly. "No, it's me. Mako-chan."

Ami tensed in her arms. She rolled her head to one side and then to the other. A headshake of sorts. "Is my mom …. can you see my mom? Is she…?"

There was really no point in looking around, but Jupiter did anyway. A quick visual scan of the place. Anything for a friend. "I don't see anyone, but maybe she got out, thinking that you were already safe. There were a lot of people down in the lobby, maybe-"

Ami held up a silencing hand. She was too smart for the lie. Thinking that she would believe such an unlikely scenario was probably insulting. She tried to stand, but the effort proved too difficult for her.

"Can you stand?" Jupiter asked dumbly. "Are you in pain?"

"Minor skin abrasions, a few bruises. Nothing serious. M-my head, though," she massaged her temples.

Sweat stood out in a sickly glow on Ami's face. It had soaked through her clothes, making her blouse stick to the skin. Transformed, Sailor Jupiter was offered some measure of protection against uncomfortable temperatures, but even she had to admit it was rather warm. And if she could feel the heat even through the magical protection, she wondered how Ami must be feeling.

"Come on, I'll carry you." Jupiter bent low, scooping up Ami into her arms. There was a tiny grunt of pain, but nothing more than that. She managed to wrap her arms around Jupiter's neck. Together they hobbled back over to the stairwell. Jupiter felt a little like Dr. Frankenstein – carrying his monster around the lab, waiting for that fateful lightning strike that would reanimate the dead husk into full pulsating vitality.

They reached the stairs just in time. For as Jupiter crossed over into the smoky, yet un-charred stairwell with Ami in her arms, there came up a great crashing noise as the entire ceiling above caved in. She stood there looking blankly at the scene. One second later, and they would've been buried alive.

_Lucky girl,_ Jupiter scolded herself. _But one day your luck's gonna run out, so don't depend on it for everything. _

Down the stairs they ran. Out the front door they went. Across the parking lot. Into the night. Jupiter's legs carried them both. And even though it was awkward having to contend with Ami's weight and the way she bounced up and down in her arms, she was nonetheless glad to have found her at all. She wasn't about to complain.

Five minutes later, the entire group was reunited – Motoki, Unazuki, Jupiter and Ami. Motoki offered to take Ami, which was fine because Jupiter's communicator was beeping. After handing Ami off like a sack of flour, Jupiter rolled up a glove and pressed the 'receive' button. The communicator chirped loudly. To anyone else, it would have looked like a large watch – albeit a tacky green thing embossed with a plastic jewel set inside a gold, five-pointed star. Jupiter frowned. They were getting old. Luna and Artemis had originally given them to the crew when the battle with the Black Moon had first gotten underway, which had been three or so years ago.

Three years later and they still hadn't closed that particular chapter of their lives. The enemy was back with a vengeance. The Black Moon had risen again.

"Yeah, Jupiter here."

"Ah! Mako-chan!" It was Minako. The plastic jewel glowed in sync to her voice. "We're at the school. Everybody's here. Well, everybody except you and Ami. Speaking of Ami, do you know where she is? I've been trying to call her, but she isn't responding. Do you think she's okay? I mean-"

"Minako! Just relax for a second, all right? I have Ami with me. Motoki and Unazuki, too."

"Okay. Bring 'em to the school. Everyone's there. Haruka and …well…. everybody. Except Michiru. But we're holding an emergency Sailor meeting."

An emergency meeting. Ha. It was a little too late for meetings. But Jupiter said nothing, nodding at the communicator. "Okay, we'll be there. As soon as-"

Somebody tugged at her hand.

"-as soon as humanly-"

Tug, tug.

"-possible."

Another tug.

"_What?"_ Jupiter whirled around to face Motoki. "Hey, I'm on the phone, okay? Hold that thought."

Motoki nodded to something behind her. Terror swarmed behind his eyes, causing them both to bulge and grow large. He looked like a manga character with those eyes.

Jupiter spun her head around to look.

They had entered a clearing. There were no buildings here to obscure their view. As such, they had a fantastic view of Tokyo Tower. It twinkled off in the distance, this modern Eiffel Tower, bathed in the lights of the fires below. It looked the same as any other night, all lit up and brilliant - so at first, Jupiter wasn't sure what the problem was. Then she noticed that it appeared to be leaning slightly to the right. Then her eyes fell upon the thick blanket of smoke surrounding its base.

She was about to ask Motoki what had happened when, suddenly, the ear-piercing squeal of ripping metal reached her. The tower pitched violently to the side, now looking more like a replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A shower of sparks went belching off its middle portion and the entire thing was pitched into darkness.

And then, amid more screeching of both the metallic and human variety, the Tokyo Tower fell. As if it were nothing more than a child's tinker toy made out of orange sticks, it simply collapsed – the top portion breaking off from the rest during the tumble down. A shower of broken orange rungs. A whirlwind of dust and debris as it fell onto the buildings surrounding, destroying them, too, in the process.

Tokyo Tower, as much a part of the city as the Empire State Building was to New York, as Big Ben was to London. Gone. Just like that. It left a slender gap in the skyline.

Unazuki wined. Motoki shifted Ami in his arms and once more embraced his sister. They both had tears in their eyes.

Jupiter did not cry, nor did she join in with the embracing. She merely stood in place, watching the smoke rise, her body rigid with fury. _How many is that, now, Death Phantom? How many have you killed? Or have you lost track? You cowardly piece of garbage. Read _this_ thought! _

Ami said something.

"What did you say?" Motoki asked, shifting her around so that her voice wouldn't be muffled.

"I said," Ami lifted up a weary head and regarded everyone with equally exhausted eyes. "-'he won't stop'."

…

"-noise?"

"I'll go check."

"-piter and Ami."

"-good to … everyone…."

Voices, disembodied and indistinct gently woke Usagi from her sleep. Begrudgingly, she opened her eyes and rejoined the world. Initially, she had no idea where she was. She had the impression of a big room with many people in it, but not anything else. Then she slowly began to recognize the place. The evenly spaced windows, the desks pushed up against the walls…

She was back at school.

Many faces surrounded her. Tuxedo Mask behind her, Minako to her side. Makoto, Ami, Rei, Haruka, and Setsuna were also in attendance. Everybody who could transform had. Which meant the current Sailor team consisted only of Jupiter, Mars, Uranus and Pluto.

_It's a party now,_ thought Usagi blankly.

A quick look around revealed Luna, resting in Minako's lap. Artemis was at his companion's side, licking her wounds. Luna purred humbly in gratitude. And just outside were Phobos and Deimos. They had taken residence on a tree limb that scratched against one of the room's windows.

Usagi felt something hard in her hand. Unfurling it, she saw the Silver Crystal. She stared at it in confusion for several seconds. Hadn't she offered it up to Death Phantom in exchange for her parents' lives? Then she remembered. She'd caught it when he had thrown it back at her, renouncing it as a fake. And after that he had killed her parents. And it had been her fault.

She groaned.

"She's awake!"

Conversation halted abruptly as everyone turned their attention to Usagi. Poor helpless Usagi. She felt Tuxedo Mask rub his hands friskily over her arms, as if to warm them up. He asked her if she was okay. She lied and said yes. Jupiter asked her if she were _sure_ she was okay. Usagi lied again, but did it this time with a big ol' fake smile. To change the subject quickly, she asked Luna how she was doing.

The cat had taken quite a blow, but seemed to be in good spirits. "I'm doing as well as can be expected," she explained. "Artemis is a fine nurse."

Artemis blushed to the roots of his whiskers and continued on with the job.

The place was full of students and a few teachers, most sitting around the edges of the room and Usagi noticed that nobody screamed or pointed when either of the cats spoke. They must've heard, yet nobody made the slightest indication that anything was out of the ordinary. Usagi supposed she understood. Given the current state of things, two talking cats probably seemed pretty mundane.

Wait a second. If somebody had taken the time to get Luna out of the Tsukino house, where was Shingo? Surely they wouldn't have just left him there, knowing that Death Phantom almost certainly considered the home of Sailor Moon to be a first strike target.

Usagi struggled to stand, but Tuxedo Mask's powerful hands gently prevented her from doing so. "What is it?" He asked. "What do you need? I'll get it for you."

"Shingo! Where is he? I-is he here?"

She searched the room with frantic eyes. She saw Naru. She saw Gurio. They were sitting under the Phobos / Deimos window, talking quietly to one another. Naru looked upset. A few adults, men in ties and women in power suits, walked around the room without direction, occasionally tending to the needs of students, but more often than not, they found themselves simply staring out the windows in a daze.

"Shingo! Shingo!"

They did leave him! How could they? The heartless-

Uranus appeared in her line of vision suddenly. "Calm down! He's over there. By the podium, see? Pluto and I rescued him along with Luna. We figured your house was no longer safe."

Usagi had zoned out after hearing that Shingo was, in fact, in the room. And there he was. She saw him now. Crouched low against the lecture at the front of the room, he had both legs drawn up to his chest. His head was buried between his knees. Usagi felt herself relax a bit. At least he was safe. At least one thing was still good with the world.

He must have felt her gaze on him, because he poked his head up briefly and looked in her direction. They locked eyes with one another for all of two seconds before he bent his head down again, breaking off the contact. Usagi exhaled a regretful breath. _I should've never told him about me. Now things will never be the same between us._

_Uh, knock knock,_ her mind whispered back to itself. _Things will never be the same for _any_body _ever_ again. _

True enough.

Now that everyone had arrived, the meeting began.

"Um, are my eyes playing tricks on me, or are we one short?" Minako asked. She counted the faces of those around her with an index finger and a frown. "We seem to be missing an Outer. Well, Hotaru's missing, of course, but where's Neptune?" She turned to Uranus with a smile. "Haruka, don't tell me you've lost track of her."

Usagi looked away. Minako actually sounded happy. Cheerful. Was she enjoying this? Her laughter, not the talking cats, was the one thing that caused the others in the room to look up. Laughter sounded so alien to the ears now. What was Minako's problem? Then again, Usagi guessed it was either put up a false pretense of lightheartedness or give in to the madness.

"Michiru won't be joining us," Uranus answered cryptically.

Even the bright-eyed Mianko must have sensed the underlying tone in that reply, for she didn't pursue the subject.

Three minutes later and the meeting had begun in earnest. Many questions were raised – like: What was Death Phantom's real agenda? Was he working along or with somebody else? And if he did have a cohort, was he the minion or the mastermind? These questions and countless others were asked, but no answers were offered up. None of them had the faintest clue what his motives were or why he operated the way he did. Beyond his name – Satoshi Yomata – they knew next to nothing about his personal life or his personality. No, that wasn't quite right. The one thing they knew for sure was that he possessed an almost uncanny ability to charm. He was a liar, a pretender, a charlatan of the best school.

And he had fooled them all.

That was the one thing that bothered the group as a whole, the way they had been so easily taken in. They tried to alleviate their feelings of naivety by placing most of the blame on his psychic powers. Maybe he had discreetly used those powers on the group, forcing them to subconsciously accept him. Except that didn't explain everything. He just had a certain boyish charm about him (that was likely manufactured) that existed apart from his psychic abilities.

Now, as this discussion went on, Usagi noticed that Setsuna seemed to make it a point not to speak. During the whole long session of Questions Without Answers, she didn't so much as burp. She just sat there, cloaked in shades of black and gray, her Garnet Rod across her lap.

Whatever.

Usagi stood, trying not to draw much attention to her. Nobody noticed her departure. They were all caught up in the game of trying to figure things out after the fact. As she glided out, she observed that Motoki (the Arcade Guy) and Unazuki were also in the room. She hadn't noticed them. Motoki had a shotgun cradled in one arm and stood over the small group of conversing cats and humans like a guard. Unazuki lay at his feet, her posture the same as Shingo's.

She moved out into the hall. She went up the stairs leading to the roof as she had done a thousand times before. She used to like eating her lunch up there.

What struck her, as she exited onto the roof, were the stars. They flickered in the sky like the remnants of crushed diamonds. Hundreds of them, thousands, spread generously across the sky. Their beauty looked out of place twinkling above the charred ruins of the city. Had they always been there, the stars? Most surely. They were always there, sometimes hidden by the blue sky of day, oftentimes obscured by the neon glow of a bustling modern metropolis, but they were always there. Now with day magically rendered night, and with most of the city's power gone, they had reappeared.

Usagi moved to the railing and watched them, attempting to focus solely on their otherworldly splendor and not on the screams echoing off in the distance.

But soon the screams overcame even the stars.

Each cry was different, distinct. And though it was impossible, Usagi heard each individually. She found herself trying to imagine to whom they all belonged. In the horrible detail that only the mind's eye can summon up, she saw a family of three (a mother, a father, and a preschool-aged child of indeterminable sex) cowering inside a closet as the sound of footsteps invaded their home. She saw a woman of 30 fleeing from a platoon of droids; saw her running up a staircase – blindly running with no destination in mind but escape. A door loomed ahead. She broke through, only to find herself trapped on the roof of a high-rise. She has run herself into a corner. Waiting means death at the hands of the droids (already she can hear them trampling up the metal stairs), but she has nowhere else to go. Of course, she could choose to end it herself. That would be the noble thing to do. All it would entail would be moving over to the edge of the roof, climbing over the guardrail and flinging herself over the side. Which will she choose? Which method of death will she prefer?

Usagi shoved the image away. Why was she doing this? How was this helpful? Usagi bit down hard on her lip and tried to disconnect from it all. But yet two more faces rose up to greet her.

Her mother and father.

She saw their faces quite clearly. Every wrinkle, every unruly strand of hair was captured in perfect representation. They were smiling at her, telling her that it wasn't her fault … but that made it worse. That made it so much worse.

The stars. She hadn't noticed them before because she'd been too busy with other things – namely, trying to save their lives to look up into the sky. Now that they were dead, she had all the time in the world to lounge around and gaze skyward.

A sob escaped her.

Why hadn't she taken them up on their karaoke-night offer? Why hadn't she spent more time with them? Why? Why? Why? She cursed herself for having taken everything for granted. She had just assumed her parents were always going to be around because they _were_ her parents. If there were going to be any danger, it would strike the Sailor Soldiers. At least that's what she had thought at the time.

She brought the Silver Crystal up to her face. It was ironic, really. All the battles, all the enemies she had fought against – it had always stemmed from the same longing. They all wanted the Crystal. From Metalia to Galaxia, they all yearned for it, craved its power. And the one time that she actually handed it over, it had been tossed right back.

The Silver Crystal. Sailor Moon. Did they bring about more violence than they were supposed to prevent?

"Here you are."

Usagi pocketed the Crystal. "Mamo-chan," she said without turning around.

"What are you doing up here?" He asked.

"I have no idea," she replied.

There was a silence. It hung in the air like acid fumes.

"My parents are dead," Usagi mumbled, her face still turned away. "Did you know that?"

Footsteps approaching her. "Yes. And I … I'm sorry. I wish I'd gotten there sooner."

From the school's roof, one could see a portion of the city laid out below. Usagi remembered coming here during lunch right after the earthquake that had started it all and seeing the destruction it had caused. The quake's zone of devastation had been limited to only a few blocks, she recalled, but from the roof, it had looked like a bomb had been dropped onto those few blocks, flattening them. Now all of Tokyo looked like that. It all looked flat, burned beyond repair. Dying. Perhaps already dead.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Usagi faced Tuxedo Mask, but kept her head angled toward the floor. "Remember the kind of person I was?"

Tuxedo Mask, the darling that he was, fumbled for a few minutes, trying to sugarcoat things.

Usagi waved a hand, gesturing that a response hadn't been necessary. "I was a crybaby. An airhead. A proud underachiever." She laughed as she herself remembered the olden days. "My first time out as Sailor Moon, I cried so hard that I ruptured the enemy's eardrums. That's how I managed to live through it." The laughter subsided. "I came so far, as both a soldier and a person. I grew from a whiner into a strong leader – at least I'd like to think so. Looking back, judging the beginning of things against the end of my Sailor Moon career, I think I matured quite nicely. It was like night and day. But now I feel like I'm right back to where I started. Weak. Cowardly. I don't know what else."

"You can't be serious." Tuxedo Mask placed a hand around Usagi's neck and pulled her close to him. "You're not weak. You're not cowardly."

His hand slid down her arm and came to a rest upon hers. He kneaded his gloved fingers into her flesh. That warm touch, once so reassuring, was now an irritation. He continued to speak, saying all the right feel-good words, touching her in all the right places. But things weren't okay. Things were not going to _get_ okay. Didn't the guy understand that? Why was he treating her like a child? Why was he bothering with all these cheery little lies? Didn't he think she could take the take the truth?

"We're going to win, you'll see."

No. No._ No!_

Usagi yanked away from him. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. Veins raised on her neck like jagged scars. She grabbed at her hair and shook her head madly from side to side. "Why do you keep saying that?! Are you trying to convince yourself? Is that some kind of hypnosis technique, repeating the same thing over and over until finally you manage to fool yourself? Oh, wake up and smell the coffee! Look around! Yes, we may have won in the _past_, but things are different now! We've gone from nine Sailors to four; I can't use the Silver Crystal, and we're hiding here because we don't have the first clue what to do or how to respond to the situation!"

Tuxedo Mask held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. He stepped forward hesitantly, as if approaching a hostage situation.

"So don't tell me things are going to get better or that I'm really just as strong as I ever was, because they _aren't_ and I'm _not_!"

Tuxedo Mask had crossed over and now brought the frantic Usagi into him. There was the briefest resistance and then she relaxed. She deflated, her spark of anger snubbed by the warmth of his body. "You ask me to remember," he whispered into an ear, "and I do. I was there, too, during your first battle. And while you _did_ cry and stumble and scrape your knees, you also defeated the enemy at the end. Don't _you_ remember? You've always managed to pull through even the toughest challenges, Usa. Think back to Galaxia. You were all alone, yet you emerged triumphant. You defeated her army, you vanquished Chaos and you revived us all. That was a terrible situation, but you didn't give up! Think back! You survived that and you'll survive this."

Pretty words. And while his words were encouraging, the downtrodden Usagi managed to point out a flaw in his argument. "I wasn't alone even then. I had Seiya, Taiki, Yaten and Princess Kakyu to help me, to guide me in your absence. Besides, it was hope that kept me going back then – the hope that I would retrieve everyone's Crystals and make things right again. And now I feel so hope_less_. My parents are dead and they're staying dead. They didn't posses a Sailor Crystal, so they're-"

That was as far as she got before breaking down again.

Once more Tuxedo Mask came to her rescue, as he had done countless times before. But instead of saving her from an enemy's attack, he was saving her from her own doubts and self-loathing. He enfolded her into his cape, shutting out the smoke-streaked wind and the screams and the unanswered cries for help. At least temporarily.

"Mamo-chan?" She lifted her head to meet with his eyes. They were a hazy blue behind his mask, the color of a fading morning.

"Hmm?"

"Kiss me."

She closed her eyes, fully expecting to feel his lips on hers. But after a few hurried heartbeats and nothing to show for it, she opened them again. He was looking down at her, his expression intense.

"No, I think I won't. Not yet, anyway."

"Wha?" Usagi broke out of the embrace.

He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "You're giving up, Usa. One last kiss for the road, right?"

She raised one shoulder in what could've been classified as a shrug.

"I will kiss you, but not now. When this is all over, when we've won – then I'll kiss you and it'll be great, but not now. Not when you've given yourself up to loosing."

Usagi stared back at him blankly.

Smiling, he said, "It'll give us something to look forward to."

The door to the roof squeaked open.

"There you guys are! I've been looking everywhere! Now's not the best time to wonder off, ya know."

"Sorry, Minako," Tuxedo Mask said. He took Usagi by the hand. "We'll go back now."

Usagi was careful to avoid looking in Minako's direction as she lumbered down the stairs.

Back in the classroom, the meeting paused long enough for Uranus to glance back as Tuxedo Mask and company rejoined the group. Then she turned her attention back to the task at hand. "Yeah, it's true that we're outmatched," she said, answering a previous question, "Which is why we need to rely on strategy. Ami, that's your area. Jupiter and I make up the brunt of the team's strength, so we'll handle the fighting. Mars, since Michiru isn't with us, we'll be depending on you and your senses to alert us to any danger, to keep us one step ahead. Pluto, you'll be assigned guard duty – protecting those who can't transform. Minako, Ami, Usagi, we're going to find a safe place for you to hide while we do our thing."

Usagi opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get a word out, somebody else spoke up, cutting her off. A deep voice. Slightly muffled. Raspy.

Belonging to Death Phantom.

"You think you can hide from my Evil Eye?"

What happened next happened so quickly that Usagi barely had time to process it all. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him, a wraith, shrouded in deepest violet emerging from the shadows of the room. The classroom then flared into a frenzy of screaming as those who found themselves sitting near him went ducking for cover. A few darted for the exit, but most remained where they were, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Then two voices trumped all the rest. Two voices rose above the din so that Usagi could hear them perfectly.

"Space Turbulence!"

"Jupiter Oak Evolution!"

Those two attacks, with a combined power equal to a ton of dynamite, went racing across the way toward the enemy who had so casually appeared before them. But Death Phantom made no move for cover. Instead, he stood his ground, with not so much as a whimper of fear escaping from the folds of his robe.

But at the very last second before impact, the two attacks (now a single glowing orb of joined power) simply glanced off some kind of invisible shield. Deflected, they careened out of control, up toward the ceiling. There was a blast and a flash of light as a major chuck of the ceiling vaporized into nothingness.

Once again, out of the sides of her vision, Usagi saw Naru and Gurio cringe against each other in fear. Terrified murmurs rippled through the room, but nobody screamed. They did not dare. Outside, Phobos and Deimos threw themselves frantically against the window glass. Inside, Luna and Artemis arched their backs and hissed their feline threats.

Jupiter and Uranus remained poised for battle, their legs rooted. Their hands had taken on karate poses.

Death Phantom moved between the two of them, gliding smoothly on a current of air. His attention was focused ahead, to something else.

To Shingo.

Usagi watched in horror as Death Phantom neared the lectern. She was speechless as he knelt down beside her brother.

"You must be Shingo Tsukino."

The only acknowledgement her brother gave was a slight whimper. He still had his head tucked between his knees.

"I owe you a dept of gratitude." The enemy laughed. Cruelly.

By now Shingo was trembling like a kitten after a cold bath. Usagi watched him from afar, too sacred to run to his assistance. What did Death Phantom mean to do? Was he going to kill him, just like her parents? Or was he just toying with him? Usagi didn't know, but felt it better to refrain from action, lest it excite him into violence.

Death Phantom reached forward with a hand. Usagi tensed. The hand dropped down onto the boy's shoulder. _How cold that hand must be_, she thought. Cold enough to be felt through a dozen layers of fabric.

A stain spread itself out between Shingo's legs, turning the denim of his jeans several shades darker.

This must have amused Death Phantom to no end, for he threw back his head and guffawed at the ceiling. Down came the other hand, grasping Shingo's other shoulder. He hoisted the boy to full height from up off the floor. He angled his head for a better view of Shingo's pee-stained front. That sent him into another round of laughter.

Shingo was crying. His face was turned away from the ghostly figure harassing him but even so, Usagi heard the chocked, staccato sobs.

Still snickering, Death Phantom turned his hostage around so that the others in the room could join in on the fun. Some laughed, not knowing what else to do. These were the ones who would later accept the mark.

The laughter grew louder, causing Usagi to grow angrier. After watching her brother being paraded around like a dog for a good three minutes, she snapped. "You came all this way and wasted all this energy to pick on somebody half your size? Wow. You're a real piece of work."

With one final snort, Death Phantom shoved Shingo to the side. The boy went flying across the room, his legs kicking uselessly. He crashed against a wall and fell into a heap.

"Actually, I've come on business. You remember a Miss Hotaru Tomoe, don't you?"

At the mention of the name, Uranus flew into a rant. "You monster! What have you done to her?!"

"Nothing. It's what I _will_ do to her if you don't follow my next few instructions precisely."

A gust of gale-force wind whipped through the room. It did a great job of underscoring Uranus' anger. "I am going to kill you and I am going to make it a slow process." She ground the words between her teeth and spit them out like seeds. "She trusted you. She _loved_ you and you were just using her all along! SO TELL ME WHY I SHOULDN'T TEAR YOUR HEAD OFF RIGHT HERE!!"

Belatedly, Usagi noticed the Space-Sword, Uranus' talisman, had appeared in her hand. Its blade shimmered red, as though it had been just recently forged. She also noticed that while Uranus was talking the big words, she hadn't taken that first step forward.

"You threaten me while I hold her life in my hands." Death Phantom sighed. "This is not a smart move."

"I'm waiting for an alternative," Uranus hissed.

"Don't worry. I have every intention of returning her safely to you … providing you can meet my terms."

Neither party budged. Both were equally confident in their abilities. _Still,_ thought Usagi. _He's got Uranus' sword in his face and_ he's _laying down terms and contracts? He must be insane._

Death Phantom swiveled his head around so that it faced Usagi. He chuckled. "Yes, but I have the army, my dear."

Usagi gasped.

"Now then," he continued. "I have Ms. Tomoe in my possession. If you want her back, I propose a trade."

The Space-Sword was lowered just a hair. "What kind of a trade? What are you talking about?"

"You'll see." The Death Phantom swung his arms out wide. "You'll all see! Come! Come and let's barter a deal."

Sailor Uranus looked back at Pluto. A silent exchange crossed the air between them – a dialogue that Usagi could not read. Of course not, for those two were of their own team. Uranus, Pluto, Neptune, Saturn – they aligned themselves with the others purely out of respect. They each enjoyed power much greater than that of the original four guardians. Therefore, there was no practical need for them to join forces with anybody. They were a part of the team simply because they wished to be.

_Clink. _The Space-Sword was sheeted. Her head bent low, Uranus spoke. "And I have your word that, whatever this deal is, if I go along with it, you'll release Hotaru?" She spoke so softly that Usagi could barely make out the words. It was understandable. Haruka prided herself in her roughness, her tough attitude. To consent to somebody else's terms was like giving in to defeat. And that was the worst of all possible sins. It was okay to loose – if you had put up a good fight before going down – but to give up and submit…. The very idea …. unthinkable.

_Good advice_, an obscure part of Usagi's mind pointed out.

Death Phantom spoke, his arms still spread out like bat wings. "You have my word and you can rest easy in that. I say or do many things, but my word is my bond."

That seemed good enough for Uranus. She walked forward, closer, closer. Closer to the enemy that not one minute ago, she'd been intent on killing. Now she was at his mercy. Her heels sounded impossibly loud on the tile floor. Death Phantom fanned his arms out wider, as if meaning to hug the Sailor Soldier. And then Uranus was gone. She had simply stepped _into_ him and vanished into the dark recesses of the cloak. Like stepping into a cave.

Nobody gasped as Usagi thought they would. Instead, they each looked straight ahead at Death Phantom, questioning. He nodded and spoke soothingly. "Yes, you can come as well. In fact, I insist on it. So come. Come and fight for your friend."

Pluto was the next to go. In she went without a word to the others. In she went – consumed by the darkness, by the evil. Sailor Mars took a stride forward, glanced at Phobos and Deimos through the window, and was the next to disappear. Jupiter, before entering into the folds, looked Usagi directly in the eye and forbade her to follow. "Don't go," she ordered. "Stay here." It's-"

"Too dangerous," Usagi finished. She knew this song by heart now.

Jupiter nodded and was gone.

With all the transformable Sailors gone, Minako looked lost. It was obvious that she felt obligated to join the others, but at the same time, she kept looking back at Usagi. Torn between duty and the need to protect a friend. Then, suddenly, she flashed the peace sign and favored Usagi with a wink. "Hey, I'm the leader now, right? Sailor Venus or no Sailor Venus, I've gotta go and lead! See you later, dumping-head!"

And poof. Bye-bye, Mianko.

Next up: Ami. The girl genius, calculated, weighed the options (A{Friendship} + B{Hotaru in danger} – C {transformation issues [raised to the fourth degree]}) and arrived at a solution. Her goodbye to Usagi was short and consisted of a few words.

Six down, two to go. Tuxedo Mask stood gravely by Usagi's side. He watched Death Phantom and Death Phantom watched him. And it was Death Phantom who spoke first, saying: "It's your turn."

"I'm not going." Tuxedo Mask moved from the side to a more protective position in front of Usagi.

"Don't you care about Hotaru? Or does such concern only extend to members of the actual Sailor Team?"

Usagi could feel Tuxedo tense.

"Go or not, that's your choice. However, I feel I must inform you that Hotaru's chances of being returned intact greatly diminish should you choose to stay here."

Usagi stepped out from behind her protector's shadow. "Mamo-chan. Go. If you're worrying about protecting me, don't. I'll be fine."

He didn't seem so sure. "No, I won't leave you here all alone." He lowered his voice. "This might be a trap. Getting you all by yourself might be his plan."

"_Or_ he might have Hotaru."

Yet in spite of that scenario being mentioned, he did not waver.

_Yeah, he goes on and on about how I'm as strong as I ever was, but he refuses to leave my side when danger rears its head. Right._

"Go on. I'll still have Luna and Artemis with me. And Mars' crows are right outside. So don't worry about me – I've got the animal brigade right here."

Tuxedo exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumped.

Usagi moved in to kiss him, but then remembered their promise. _Only when the battle has been won. _Instead, she playfully punched him in the chest. "Time's a wastin'."

"That it is," Death Phantom agreed. "That it most certainly is."

And so, like the rest before him, Tuxedo Mask disappeared into blackness – only Usagi did not watch.

"You miss him already."

She didn't bother with a reply.

"Why not come along?"

Usagi lifted her head.

"Yes. Join the festivities. Who knows, your presence might be needed. After all, I would really hate for Hotaru to end up like …" He paused, taking pleasure in inflicting his torment. "…your parents."

Blind with a sudden rage that caused her vision to go hazy, she did not see Motoki sneaking up behind with his shotgun in hand.

"I hated to do it. I did. You must believe me, I would take no joy in killing the girl, but it really comes down to a matter of honor. If your Sailor pals can't produce, I'm afraid that I'll have to."

Neither he nor Usagi heard the sound of the shotgun being pumped.

But they did hear the blast. They did see the fire spurting from the barrel.

And just before the shot was to hit home, Usagi remembered how the attacks of Uranus and Jupiter had been deflected. _Motoki! No, don't! _That's what she wanted to say, had she the time to say it.

But it was too late. A circular flare of light lowered itself around Death Phantom in a protective bubble and sent the shrapnel shards flying back to where they had come from.

Motoki didn't even have time to gasp, let alone move out of the way. He did utter a pinched-off cry of surprise before toppling backward, however.

Now Usagi found the time to cry out his name. Unazuki, too. The others just cried out.

_No, no, NO! Not you, too! Motoki, no!_

_(Usagi! Decided to stop by after school for a quick game, huh?)_

_How bad is it please tell me it's not that bad not as bad as it looks_

_(My name's Motoki.) _

_Unazuki, get outta the way!! I need to see how bad he's hurt!_

_(Still, I thought I'd die of surprise! I can't believe this control room was under our arcade.)_

_Motoki, you can't be…. I won't let you end up like…._

_(And not only that, but you guys are Sailor Moon and Sailor V! And Mercury and Jupiter?! How could you keep this from me?!)_

She saw him, then. Spread out in his sister's lap. Bloody. Splinters of metal poking out from his body. Still breathing.

"He'll live."

Usagi whirled around. Transformed or not, she felt full of power, full of fury. She felt ready to fight. With her bare hands, if need be. She held Death Phantom in her sights, her veins seething with fire. She wanted to hit him, to curse him, to make him hurt the way he had made her. But it was no good. She was too upset. She couldn't form words or rational thought.

"Calm yourself. I said he'll live. Now come."

"SHUT UP!" A little short on the creativity, probably. Childish, yes. But it was the best she could do. And besides, the venom fueled her words. "You KILLED him! You KILLED MOTOKI!!"

Jets of ember erupted from where the eyes of the Death Phantom should have been. "AS I WILL KILL THE GIRL HOTARU IF YOU DO NOT COME TO ME!"

Usagi began to cry.

He spoke again, his tone infinitely calmer now. "You have my word that your Motoki will not die. But you must come."

The black within the purple yawned before her.

"Come."

Usagi scanned the room. Motoki. Unazuki. Naru. Gurio. Luna. Artemis. …Shingo. These were people she cared about. People she loved. What would happen to them if she refused to go?

_You have my word that your Motoki will not die._

It was frightening that that was Usagi's only reassurance.

She moved forward and into the Death Phantom's fatal embrace.

The darkness swallowed her.

…

She was falling. Falling deeper and deeper into blackness. Or was she? There was no sense of direction, no perception of up or down. But she felt as if she were being pulled. She could've been dropping down or hurtling up. She had no idea.

Voices could be heard. But they were faint and she couldn't make out what they were saying. She doubted if they were friendly. Sometimes they came from below her, sometimes above her, and other times they seemed to come from inside her.

As she fell through the void, she had the sensation of things whirling about her head - wispy creatures, as intangible as clouds.

Down she fell. Up she rose. The black. The dark. It lasted so long that she was sure it had all been a trap, just as Tuxedo Mask had said. And how stupid she had been for believing it. But he had given her his word, and what else could she have done?

She felt like throwing up.

The feeling of falling increased.

The voices rose in timbre. Oh, they were excited now. And … now she could distinguish the words. It wasn't a group speaking, it was one person – talking over himself (herself?) Many words. But they were jumbled together.

_We meet again. Did you really think _

_you will die_

_that would be the end of me?_

_this time you will not_

_I have you within my grasp again._

_succeed._

And the funny thing was, she recognized that disembodied voice. And it filled her with a terror more intense than anything Death Phantom could've provided.

And just when she opened her mouth with the purpose of shrieking, the blackness parted.

…

From darkness into light. The sudden visual stimulation was disorienting. She had stepped out of a murky black cave and straight into the Shibuya ward with its neon advertisements and flashy stores. From Juuban High to Shibuya Crossing – a distance of many, many city blocks traversed in the blink of an eye.

Shibuya Crossing – the equivalent to New York's Times Square. Every available inch of every place flickered with lights. Lights that continued to function. Though the rest of the city had been more or less burnt to the ground, this place was still virtually intact, as if Death Phantom meant to preserve this small street crossing as some future historical landmark. "The Museum of the Black Moon" – observe the way Things Used To Be!

Huge plasma advertising screens graced the sides of nearly every building. They were still functioning as well, blasting their images for the consumption of a nonexistent audience. Only it was the same image on every screen. And it wasn't an advertisement for the Playstation 2.

It was Hotaru. Blown up to colossal size, her terrified face stared back at Usagi from a dozen different locations. With the great increase in size came a great amount of detail. The poor girl had her eyes squeezed shut. Tears streamed out from the corners in waterfalls. Blotches of red had overtaken the clear, white alabaster skin of her cheeks. Her hair was tussled. She seemed to be gasping for air, struggling to utter just one final cry for help.

Movement ahead.

Usagi looked and saw Hotaru street-level. She was on her knees, surrounded by a pocket of droids. Two droids had hold of her arms, which they spread out crucifixion style. Hotaru gasped and rasped for breath, her chest beating in and out much too quickly. She was hyperventilating.

Sailor Uranus was running toward her, quick as lightning, as if propelled by her own personal tornado current. Usagi watched her zip across the crossing, prepared to fight against the whole of the Black Moon army just to rescue the imprisoned Hotaru. She was going to make it! There wouldn't have to be any deal made! She was just going to take her back by force!

Only it wasn't going to be that simple. Uranus was just within an arm's length of pulling Hotaru free when a fearsome scratching sound ripped through the air. A blast of black light sent the Sailor Soldier sailing backward, through the sky like a clay pigeon, before slamming into the others.

None of them saw Usagi. She had been teleported to a position slightly behind them all.

Somebody was clapping. Death Phantom. He materialized next to his captor with a barking _poof_ of displaced air. "Very entertaining! Some people never learn."

Uranus flung a mouthful of curses into the air. So agitated was she, that it took Pluto, Jupiter, and Tuxedo Mask to hold her back, to keep her from running into the invisible barrier again. Her head snapped back, then pitched forward. She snapped her teeth in Death Phantom's direction like a rabid dog. It frightened Usagi to see her like this, so wild, so out of control. She found herself inching back from the group.

"There's really no need to behave like that." Death Phantom scolded. "I told you that I would return her to you, provided that you are able to meet my demands."

"Which are?" Tuxedo growled.

Hotaru flung her eyes open wide. She saw her friends standing before her. It must have felt like a godsend. "Help me! HE'S GONNA KILL ME!! Help me! I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you! HEEEEEELLLLP!!! HEL-" A droid pinched down on her shoulder, silencing her.

"The terms are quite simple." Death Phantom snapped two fingers and a helpful helper droid appeared, a small box in its hands. Death Phantom lifted the lid and withdrew a few things.

A diamond-shaped gem – yellow, like the sun glistening off a blade of metal.

Minako narrowed her eyes. "That can't be…"

And another – this one an icy blue, and pale as a snowflake.

"That's my-" Ami's hands flew to her mouth.

Death Phantom nodded. "And this."

Another one. This one was slightly larger than the rest – the color of its jagged body, a hollow black. It did not shine nor glisten. It was a dead stone, yet full of power nonetheless.

Usagi knew at once what it was. She'd seen it before. In Crystal Tokyo. She'd seen it up close, though in a much larger form. That inky monolith silhouetted against the shattered crystalline remains of a defeated utopia.

"The Black Poison Crystal." She and the Death Phantom spoke its name in tandem.

A gasp rippled through the others.

"The Black Poison Crystal possesses unlimited negative voiding powers. When it first came into my possession, it had been no larger than a pebble. Now look at it! It was able to feed off these." He clinked the Mercury and Venus Crystals together. "It absorbed their power, corroding it, twisting it into negative energies, and it grew."

Usagi tensed. Like a black hole sucking in all light and matter, the Crystal would not allow her to release her gaze.

"Now I want yours."

Nobody said a word. They could only manage a few _"what the-"_ looks at each other.

Death Phantom threw his arms open wide. "Yes! All the Sailor Crystals of the Solar System! I require them all if you wish to save her." He gestured to Hotaru.

Hotaru had tears in her eyes as she mouthed the words _"I'm sorry."_

Sailor Uranus stepped forward. Tuxedo Mask made a grab for her arm, but missed. She walked forward, head held high. She smiled at Hotaru as she made her way toward Death Phantom.

Hotaru looked away.

"No way!" Jupiter whispered. "She's not going to …. is she?"

A flash of navy and Sailor Uranus dissolved into a smattering of sakura blossoms. She handed her Crystal over to the enemy freely.

He took it, a gem like the others – blue as a summer's sky.

Haruka returned, a broken woman.

Death Phantom laughed and snapped his fingers impatiently. "Next!"

Sailor Pluto, like Uranus before her, did not discuss it with the others. She just walked forward and presented her Crystal for consumption. It glowed black – but soothingly, like the kind of restful black you find when closing your eyes after a hard day.

On the way back, she looked as if she wanted to say something to Hotaru, but she was a woman of few words, so she simply nodded in the girl's direction.

Now with the Venus, Mercury, Uranus, and Pluto Crystals in hand, Death Phantom was becoming inpatient for more. "Jupiter! Mars! Step forward and do it quickly or Hotaru dies!"

Mars stepped forward and Jupiter along with her. As they inched toward the enemy, Jupiter seemed to be talking something over with Mars. A plan to recapture the Crystals and save Hotaru all at the same time, perhaps. But Mars shook her head and with a spark of flame, her Crystal appeared – red as the fires of retribution. Jupiter looked around, as if looking for a last-minute means of escape, found none, and offered up her own – green, like the flowing grass of a wide, open meadow.

Makoto swore under her breath walking back.

"So beautiful," Death Phantom murmured.

"We've held up our end of the bargain," Haruka screamed out. "Now uphold yours!"

Death Phantom giggled. "No."

Haruka actually looked stunned. It didn't surprise Usagi in the least. The man was a cheat. A crook. And he wasn't even a man at all. He was a boy who liked to pretend he was bigger and badder than he really was.

The hope quickly dying within her eyes, Haruka stammered the incomplete sentence: "W-what do you mean y-you won't…"

"You," Death Phantom pointed a finger at someone in the group. Tuxedo Mask. "Prince of the Earth! You hoped I was going to forget about you! So sorry to disappoint. Your Crystal. Now."

And so Tuxedo Mask traveled along the same track of humiliation as the others. And when he arrived at the final step on the road, a light so pure and so brilliant that it engulfed the neon completely shone forth. The Crystal of the Earth radiated its glory as bright as the sun. The Earth Crystal – gold, to indicate the royal stature of a King.

The Golden Crystal, sacred stone of Elysion.

Usagi wanted to cry as she watched Mamoru stalk back, a thin man wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

"Okay, now are you happy?! Now will you give us back Hotaru?"

_He won't._ Usagi was sure of this. _He has all the Sailor Crystals. He'll just kill us all with no second thought about it. He won't release her._

"Of course." Death Phantom made a vague motion in Hotaru's direction and, incredibly, the droids loosened their hold of her.

She didn't have time to move forward even a step until Haruka was upon her, slopping her face with kisses. They were both crying. The others moved in to join.

"I'm so SO sorry!" Hotaru wept as she hugged those around her. "You were right! Oh, Haruka-papa, you were right! I should've never …. I didn't know…"

"Ssh," came the gentle reply. Haruka stoked the girl's hair, letting her own tears fall upon it. "It's alright now. Everything will be okay now that I have you back."

Usagi ran to join in on the bittersweet moment, but stopped when she saw Setsuna off by herself, a troublesome expression etched on her face. She was watching the reunion from afar, mumbling something to herself. "Were those… Could they be…."

"Setsuna?" Usagi touched the woman's arm. "Setsuna, what's the matter?"

She did not answer back.

"Oh, I'm so glad you all came for me!" Hotaru gushed. "I knew you would, deep down, but I never imagined you'd have to sacrifice so much!"

"It is," whispered Setsuna. Dread blazed through her maroon eyes. "It is! I can't believe I haven't noticed it before now… Haruka! Everyone! Get away from her! NOW!"

Usagi stumbled back, not understanding. "Setsuna, what is it? What's the matter?" But then she saw it for herself. Those earrings Hotaru was wearing… Hadn't she seen them before? Yes. It had been their symbol of allegiance, along with the inverted crescent. Prince Dimande, the four sisters, Rubeus, Esmeraude. Those same earrings had jangling from their ears as well.

"Such wonderful friends," Hotaru went on. "Such kind, caring, gullible friends."

Then, in a white flash, her hand went rolling against the side of Haruka's face. Caught off guard, the other woman went stumbling to the ground. She stared back at Hotaru, uncomprehending, a palm raised to her redden cheek.

Hotaru laughed. "Well, you can't blame Satoshi. He said he'd let me go and he did." She turned to blow a kiss at Death Phantom.

Usagi felt as if she were falling through the rabbit hole. It had all been a trick after all.

"One Sailor Soldier against eight civilians. Hardly a fair fight." Hotaru heaved a sigh. "Still…."

Her eyes popped open. Her mouth lifted upward into a menacing grin. "If I were you, I'd be running right about now."

_No. No. Nonononononono. Not this! Don't tell me this! Hotaru don't do it!_ Usagi couldn't look away.

"Black Poison Crystal Power! Make-UP!"

The Black Poison earrings began to smoke. Hotaru kept her eyes open, watching the others, hawk-like, as the billowing soot cloud encased her. It enveloped her body, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. Usagi watched, still not wanting to believe, as Hotaru was lifted up off the pavement. She hung suspended in mid-air as the smoke curled about her, now taking the shape of her body. Moans of ecstasy oozed out from the cocoon. It was like watching an underwater ballet performance. Hotaru jerked and tumbled through the air in a stop/go motion. She swept her hands through space as if conducting a symphony. Then the cloud descended. And when it parted, there stood Hotaru in all her blasphemous glory.

She wore the uniform of the Sailor Soldier, but her attire was clearly distinct. The bodice appeared to have been constructed from a material resembling black vinyl. The skirt, bow, and collar were likewise black. An intricate black lace design ran down both arms, serving as sleeves. On her hands she wore tiny black leather gloves, the kind a limousine driver might sport. Trailing out five feet behind her were two long, sleek ribbons. Black, naturally. Her boots were the same color as everything else, coming to a sharp, protruding V-shape just above the knee. A diamond-studded choker was wrapped around her neck, and it was this necklace that Usagi's eyes kept wondering to. It looked like a dog collar. How fitting. Hotaru was the dog, blindly obeying the whims of her master – Death Phantom. Disgusting.

The only speck of color anywhere could be found on her lips. They were painted an alarming red, the color a streetwalker might select.

The earrings still hung from the ears.

Hotaru's red lips smiled. She arched her back in a sexual-looking act of climaxing. She brought her head up so that everyone could see the inverted black crescent moon impressed on her forehead.

In her hands she wielded a scythe made from rotten wood and dented metal.

"With the blessings of Nemesis, the planet of darkness, the soldier of poison-" Hotaru sliced her scythe through the air. It made a curious ringing sound. "-Sailor Nemesis is here!"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

It couldn't be. Sailor Nemesis? It wasn't possible. On so many levels, it just couldn't be so. Forget the technical aspects of creating a counterfeit Sailor Soldier, Hotaru wouldn't turn traitor. Would she? Sure she was hopelessly addicted to Satoshi (aka Wiseman, aka Death Phantom), but for her to actually choose him over her teammates – for her to willingly align herself with the dark path…

"You look so surprised!" Death Phantom scanned the incredulous faces before him. "Did you not think it possible? The planet Nemesis is as much a part of the Solar System as any of the rest. It boasts its own Castle and Sailor Crystal. It has everything the other planets have - except a Sailor Soldier to call its own. But now, at last, Nemesis has found a vessel strong enough to channel its power!"

The girl that had been Hotaru beamed at the praise.

"At long last, Nemesis, the bastard child of the Solar System, has found legitimacy."

Brainwashing. Had to be. Hotaru would never… She wouldn't…. This wasn't her.

Apparently Haruka didn't think so either. She ran toward the girl in black, took her by the shoulders. Shook her. "Hotaru! You – you can't ..." She trailed off, lowering her gaze. Her body heaved with sobs.

Sailor Nemesis stiffened beneath the touch. "I'll give you ten minutes." She lifted both hands in what looked to be like a surrendering gesture. All ten fingers were extended. "Which I think is more than sporting."

"Hotaru! It's me! Haruka! Wake up! Please wake up! Don't do this!"

Didn't she know? Couldn't she see that the girl she was holding onto was no longer Hotaru? Maybe she did. Usagi trembled against Setsuna's rigid form. _She knows it but she refuses to accept the truth._

"Wake up! You can do it! Just-"

Down went the right hand's thumb. "Nine minutes." Those red lips hardly moved when she spoke. It was like watching a creepy ventriloquist act, with Hotaru as the dummy and Death Phantom as the one with his hand up her dress. Again Usagi's eyes drifted to that big chunky collar. Though bejeweled with diamonds, it was a dog collar, sure as anything in the world. Hotaru wore it willingly enough, never minding that Death Phantom had her on an invisible leash. Didn't she realize she was just being used?

"They don't seem to want to leave." Sailor Nemesis looked at Death Phantom.

Usagi did, too.

There he was, a cloaked figure of night. Seven Sailor Crystals flew about his hooded face, framing it in an oval of light. Usagi watched as, one by one, they tinkled into his right hand. The Sailor Crystals in his hand, the Black Poison Crystal in the other. "Perhaps they are waiting to receive the mark."

Nemesis chuckled. "They've missed their chance. It's my turn now." Her eyes twinkled as she broke off contact with her master, and in that brief second, Usagi saw the answer to her questions. She saw love in Hotaru's eyes, yes, but not love for any one person in particular. There was a hazy, dreamlike gauze over those eyes and Usagi recognized it at once. She wasn't in love with Satoshi so much as she was in love with the very idea of love itself. And who could blame the poor girl? After all she'd been through (a mad scientist of a father, being chosen as host for a malevolent ultra-dimensional demon entity)… the girl deserved some romance in her life.

Enter Satoshi. The boy expresses the slightest bit of interest in her and she latches on to him quicker than a fish to a lure. Usagi couldn't blame her. She'd been the same way with Motoki before Mamoru arrived on the scene.

"Eight minutes."

A blast of color. Blue. Yellow.

In between flashes, Usagi saw Death Phantom's shadow – feeding the Sailor Crystals into his own.

"Haruka! Haruka, we have to go!" Mianko's voice.

_Flash! Flash! _Green. Red.

"No! Leave me!"

"Come on!"

"Got her! Let's go!"

So many voices. Voices lost in a whirl of color and extraneous sound.

Navy. Black.

"Usagi? What are you-" Mamoru's voice. Surprise tinged his voice, giving it a hardened edge, but she couldn't see him. Everything – the street, her friends, the world itself, was lost in a sudden prismatic burst of light. First light and then sound – a quiet tinkling amid louder crashings. Somebody grabbed her hand (Mamoru, she guessed) and began to pull her down the street. She tumbled along with them as they ran for their lives, sparing only the briefest glance behind.

Now imbued with the power of seven Sailor Crystals, the Black Poison Crystal had grown to immense size, already drwafring the surrounding structures. And it was still growing. It spiraled up into the sky, its jagged protrusions slicing and shattering any buildings in its way. And as it continued to rocket upward, Usagi spied the seven Crystals glowing within – their color dulled and warped by the black veneer of the evil Crystal of Nemesis.

"Come on, don't look back!" Mamoru tugged her along harder, nearly sending her crashing into him.

Somebody laughed, a sound that carried over the thunderous crashing and the roaring and Mamoru urging Usagi onward. A cruel sound, an expression of humor that Usagi didn't find funny in the least.

It was Sailor Nemesis. It was Hotaru. Usagi caught one last glimpse of her friend before Mamoru pushed her around a corner. Only she wasn't seeing Hotaru. It was another young lady - dressed in a maroon gown, her hair trailing down to her feet in pink waves, her cold eyes as hallow as two red stones.

_I am the Queen of Darkness, Black Lady. _

Here they were again, fighting against a friend.

_With the blessings of Nemesis, the planet of darkness, the soldier of poison, Sailor Nemesis is here! _

But she wasn't going to let him have his way.

_I'll find a way to save you, Hotaru. I promise. _

But they only had eight minutes. Eight minutes until the full power of Nemesis was unleashed upon them – not nearly enough time to do any kind of saving,

So they ran. Blindly. Without direction. Over broken, uneven pavement they ran – running with the vague hope that they might buy enough time to formulate some kind of plan. Escape wasn't an option. All ways out of the city had most likely been secured by now. And that left them with no options, really. They had nothing to do but wait and ponder the way in which they would die. Or come up with "A Plan".

Glass crunched beneath heels as the former Sailor Team scurried through the streets like frightened rats. For the most part, the streets were deserted … apart from the bodies strewn about. Occasionally a door to one of the shops alongside the road would open and a pair of hysterical eyes would look out for maybe half a second before the door was slammed shut and locked again. Discarded shopping bags littered the streets where their owners had tossed them aside in the mad rush to escape. It'd been a normal day….

Makoto had been leading the pack. Now she stopped suddenly before one of the many streetside shops – The Poker Face, informed the dark neon curls above the entranceway. The door was apparently locked or stuck shut, but one swift kick from Makoto caused it to break open.

"Let's go! Everyone get inside!

They plowed inside. Mamoru flung himself in front of Usagi at first, checking the place to make sure there weren't any droids hiding in the dark recesses, and when he was confident all was secure, he shoved her roughly inside. She went sprawling into the dark, her hands searching blindly for something to brace her fall. But she found nothing and ended up falling against a slot machine. More irritated than injured, she nevertheless let out a little cry of discomfort once she had regained her bearings.

Mamoru didn't pay any attention. He and Makoto were fixing the broken door back into its frame.

Using the slot machine as a grip, Usagi raised herself to her feet and looked about. Her eyes had gotten used to the darkness. They had tumbled into a mini-casino of sorts. Rows of slot machines, all dark and silent, were arranged in aisles among the more complex gambling games. A roulette wheel stood static over in the south corner of the room. Blackjack, anyone? It had its very own table next to the cash-in counter, while the less glamorous games of chance had been relegated to the back area. Usagi spied the

Pachinko machines in the distance and recognized them at once. During her younger, truant years, she'd been a frequent customer of places such as this. Maybe it had been all the flashing lights and the sound of those tiny, metal balls dropping into the plastic trays that had lured her inside. That, and the energy generated by a roomful of people hunkered down, praying for the jackpot.

But now, all was different. The lights were out, the games were silent. And the energy now was one of death.

"Come on." Mamoru took hold of her hand once more and led her further into the room. The others were already huddled around the pinball machines, looking like a frightened bunch of refugees. The once invincible Sailor Team. Pathetic.

Nobody spoke. They just sat there on the floor, their knees tucked up under their chins. Unfocused eyes looked out from their sockets at nothing in particular. It was unimaginable. They had been duped. Tricked. Bamboozled. And what made it worse, of course, was that it had been one of their own who had done the deceiving.

Sailor Nemesis.

Now how had that come about? Usagi pictured the scene again: Hotaru evoking the transformation incantation, the smoke enveloping her, and then the hideous reveal. She replayed the event over and over again in her mind, looking for the slightest bit of evidence that maybe Hotaru hadn't been in her right mind. That she'd been-

"Brainwashing."

A single word. Barely more than a half-coherent whisper. Still, the room had been dead silent only a moment before and this sudden declaration caught everyone's attention.

"It has to be," Haruka mumbled. She kept her eyes low. She spoke so softly that the others had to strain to hear her – which was not normal. Normally, she was the boisterous one, the rebel rouser. It was under her battle cry that the Sailors assembled, charging into any given situation, certain of victory. Now she looked like a deflated blow-up doll. Any minute now there would be a wheeze of air and she would simply collapse in a rubbery heap. "Hotaru wouldn't do this. No way. He must be controlling her. Death Phantom. She …. she wouldn't do this."

True, that did seem the best possible explanation. After all, didn't Death Phantom have a history of warping minds? Didn't he excel in bending and breaking wills? Usagi remembered their first encounter with the Black Moon Clan. It had all started with a kiss in the park … and a girl falling from the sky. It had ended in the future, a thousand years into the future, to be exact. But in between the beginning and the end, something had happened. A huge wrench had been thrown into the works, all thanks to Wiseman, that sent the entire team skidding to a stop and very nearly caused the whole operation to shut down.

_Someone gave me the power to awaken._

He had taken that sweet girl, the one who fell from the sky, and had wrapped her, filling her mind with half-truths and blatant lies. And she became the enemy's pawn.

_I am the Queen of Darkness, Black Lady. _

Chibiusa into Black Lady. Hotaru into Sailor Nemesis. Both of them twisted into parodies of themselves thanks to the vile Death Phantom. 'Course, the enemy they were currently up against would not be able to place the name "Chibiusa" or "Small Lady". And, if asked, he would profess ignorance about Crystal Tokyo and the ruling family. For this was his past self. This Death Phantom had not yet assembled his core Clan members, had not yet met Prince Dimande, Saphir, or any of the others. Usagi doubted that they were even alive yet. But it mattered not. Corruption was his specialty.

That heavy, uncomfortable silence returned, filling in the spaces between the morose hideaways like molasses. Usagi felt her mind begin to switch off, and she allowed it to do so. So she was surprised when Haruka spoke again, louder this time, as if confronting someone.

"_Excuse_ me? I didn't catch you."

"I said, 'Or maybe you didn't know her as well as you thought you did.' "

Now alert, Usagi traced the voice back to its origin point. It had a definite edge to it. Most certainly an accusation of some kind. Her eyes scanned over the many faces seated around until she detected one that did not match up with the others. This one matched the voice perfectly, however. Every feature, every line, was pulled down into a scowl of anger. The eyes were throwing invisible red-hot daggers in Haruka's direction. In short, Makoto looked mad enough to kill.

"I'm saying that brainwashing might not be the thing to blame, but rather poor parenting skills."

There was a quiet whoosh of air as everybody inhaled at once. The energy in the room had suddenly gone from awkward to hostile. Those unfortunate enough to be sitting next to Makoto found themselves shrinking back from the oncoming quarrel. Haruka, her limbs stiff, her face set, appeared ready to tumble.

"Just what are you trying to say?" she growled the question as she rose from her seat on the floor.

Makoto did the same. "You know exactly what I'm trying to say."

Haruka stared her down. She didn't so much as flutter an eyelid.

"Maybe Hotaru's just a bad girl, made all the worse through exposure to poor role models."

It happened before any of them could fully process it. Usagi saw Haruka spring herself at Makoto, saw Makoto go down – but she didn't know what it all meant. She heard flesh snapping against flesh, but could not comprehend it. Somebody screamed. Ami. Minako was latched on to the other girl for dear life, her eyes two stupid discs. For her part, Setsuna had the presence of mind to jump up, but now she stood confounded, really not knowing how to handle the situation. Mamoru leapt into the fray, his bathrobe flapping about his knees, and made a grab for Haruka's shoulders. But an elbow to the gut sent him tumbling backward.

_We're doing his work ourselves_, Usagi thought as she watched the two girls duke it out. _We're fighting each other when we should be trying to think of a way out of this mess. We've played right into his hands._

Whap! "Come on! I can take it! I can-"

Slap! "You don't know what you're talking about you stupid-"

A balled-up fist hung in mid air. Makoto saw it and sent her arm out, clamping her fingers around Haruka's wrists. The other, stronger, taller girl let loose with a howl of fury and slammed her other hand down hard on Makoto's nose. There was a dry snap of cartilage. Blood spurted from both nostrils. A cry of pain.

"Do something! Won't somebody do something?!" Ami again.

"You don't know me! You don't know me and you can't judge me!" That was Haruka.

More blows rained down upon the hapless Makoto. One after the other. A barrage of violence. Usagi saw Makoto fighting back – well, _trying_ to fight back, anyway, but Haruka was straddling her, making self-defense hard, if not impossible. She saw a hand fly up then drop. It remained motionless. _Makoto_ remained motionless. She wasn't moving. Why wasn't she moving?

Oh no. It couldn't be that-

"Stop it!" Usagi's voice cracked. She tripped on her feet trying to stand. "Haruka, stop it! _Stop it!_"

But she didn't. Maybe she didn't hear Usagi's plea over her own deluge of curses. Or more likely, she didn't care. She was too involved now. The bloodlust had overtaken her. Every neuron was overloaded. Every nerve on edge. The time for rational thinking and working things out had passed.

"You're killing her! Haruka!" Usagi latched a hand around Haruka's cavorting arms, trying to restrain her. But it was no good. Haruka had a good foot over her in terms of height and along with that came an added boost in strength. Usagi was flung to the side like a forgotten toy. Two familiar hands caught her under the arms.

"You okay?" Mamoru. Of course.

"Mako-chan's not moving!" It came out shrill and high-pitched. "I think she's dead!"

Mamoru gently put Usagi to rest on the floor and stepped over her. For one quick second, she got a good look up under his robe and saw that he was wearing the robe and that was it. _Better keep it belted good and tight,_ she thought randomly. She seemed to be doing a lot of random thinking lately. Maybe it was a sign of impending mental illness.

Then came the fluttering noise. Distant at first, it rose in resonance until it filled the room with its deafening base-like flappings. Something shot past Mamoru - a small black blur. Squawking madly, the shadow skydived toward Haruka's head. Only it wasn't a shadow at all. It was Deimos (or Phobos; Usagi couldn't tell one from the other) one of Rei's two pet ravens. She spotted the other one, Phobos (or Deimos) perched upon one of the nearby pinball machines, still as a gargoyle.

Deimos, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as composed. She circled Haruka's head wildly, cawing and squawking all the while. At one point, she even made a landing on one of her shoulders, beating the side of her face furiously with an outstretched wing. Haruka swiped and punched at the bird but always came up short. It took Usagi a while to see what was going on, but gradually, watching the comic scene of Haruka vs. raven, it became clear. Deimos was distracting her. Distracting her so that somebody could check on Makoto.

Usagi took it upon herself to apply for the job. She picked herself off from the carpet and dashed toward Makoto's unmoving form. Thankfully, Haruka was still too occupied with Deimos to notice. "Mako-chan?" She whispered the name. No reply. She took her friend's hand in her own. Limp. "Mako-chan? Can you hear me? Come on, wake up!"

Okay, she wasn't moving. But what did that mean? Was she just unconscious or… Either way, she looked bad. Blood vessels had broken beneath the skin, creating fresh purple bruises around the cheek area. Twin blood trails ran from both nostrils. She looked like the recipient of some heinous hate-crime. She - Wait a second. There! A fluttering of the eyelids. Yes! Usagi rapidly massaged the top of Makoto's arm with her thumb. One eye gradually opened, looked around, and closed. Her breath caught. She sputtered, both eyes now rolling open.

"Usagi?" It was barely more than a croak.

"Yeah, it's me. Just relax, okay?" Relax. Umm hmm. Easier said than done when someone was waiting in the wings itching to beat you up. Wary, not wanting to instigate another blowup, Usagi looked sideways at Haruka. Whatever maniacal rage that had so taken a hold of her was now gone. Her eyes caught Usagi's and then fluttered away. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Good. She ought to be.

Groggily, Makoto shifted to her feet. "That's some right hook ya got there, Haruka," she murmured, wiping the edge of her hand across her bloody nose.

"Yeah," Haruka scratched at her head absentmindedly. "Sorry about that. I was just-"

"No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have edged you on like that."

"No, really. It was my fault." Haruka slapped her chest with both hands, looking a little like a chimpanzee. "I don't know why I got so mad."

Makoto shook her head. "You had a right to. It was my fault totally."

"_Your_ fault? I was the one who-"

"For cryin' out loud, it's _both_ your faults!" Minako blurted. "Now just kiss and make up and let's put the whole thing behind us."

Strained laughter rippled through the crowd. Makoto and Haruka swapped smiles as if nothing had happened. "We've all been dealing with our own issues." Out from the shadows came Rei. One arm was outstretched, providing a perch for Deimos. As she spoke, she stroked the raven's belly with a thin white index finger. The bird cawed its appreciation. "But now's the time to put everything else aside. We're still the Sailor Soldiers, whether or not we can transform. We still have a duty, a mission to uphold."

The mood shifted to one of quiet contemplation. Once everyone had had a chance to take in the current predicament, Ami spoke hesitantly. "How did it start?" She nodded slightly to Setsuna, indicating that the question was directed at her. "I mean, in the original timeline. Perhaps if we can understand how it originally started and how it all ended, it would benefit us – give us a place to start at least."

Setsuna bit her lip.

"You're wasting your breath, Ami." Minako glared at the ex-time guardian. "I already asked her and she wouldn't tell me." She raised her voice, swinging her head over in Setsuna's direction. "I went to her trying to get information, trying to prevent all _this_, and she wouldn't tell me anything. It was her duty to protect the space-time continuum, you see. She's already had her chance to be helpful, Ami, and she blew it. She-"

Now it was Phobos' turn to interject. The raven cried out loudly - three distinct shrieks, as if to say, _Just let it go. Move on. _Minako dutifully dropped the subject. And that was that. Under no circumstances would Setsuna reveal details concerning the future.

Yet it was Setsuna herself who took up the topic at hand. Her words came out slowly and softly, as it she were explaining things to herself more so than the group. "For the longest time, I was a detached observer. Guarding the Space-Time Door, that was my only purpose in life. I existed alone, hardly ever coming into contact with anyone else. Occasionally I would have to defend the Fourth Dimension from a wayward invader, but that was it. Then Small Lady found me and from that point on, I was involved. I could no longer be objective in my thinking. I abandoned my post at the Space-Time Door. I stopped time to prevent the intruding Black Moon Clan from gaining an advantage over us, even though in so doing, I destroyed myself."

Yes, Usagi remembered it all too well. Prince Dimande had stolen both Silver Crystals of the past and future. Sailor Pluto had ordered time to halt since, should the two Crystals meet, all matter would be destroyed via a massive power overload.

"And after my revival at the hands of Neo-Queen Serenity, I was sent here, to this time, to finally fulfill my dream of fighting alongside everyone. I've made friends with each of you…" Setsuna took time to acknowledge everyone with a slight nod. "…for that reason, I won't look back. My duties as timekeeper are over. The Door has been locked. I won't hold on to the past any longer. So if you want to know about the way things originally happened, I'll tell you." She smirked. "Besides, I've already broken all the taboos, so what's stopping me, right?

"To understand the future as I am about to tell it, you must first understand the events of the original timeline. It might be easier if you imagine time itself as a stream of water. Its natural course is a single, straight line. But if time travel is allowed, the stream thus doubles back on itself and a new course is created. In essence, we're living in the new stream – a modified version of the original stream due to Small Lady time-traveling to the past from the 30th century.

Great. Usagi already had a headache and this was just the explanation.

"It all started with the fall of the Silver Millennium. Just like in our timeline, Queen Serenity allowed the Princess and her guardians to be reborn on Earth so that they may achieve happiness. And, just like in our timeline, the Dark Kingdom emerged as the first enemy that the Sailor Soldiers were pitted against. During this period, memories of everyone's past lives emerged and Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask went on to defeat Queen Metalia at the North Pole, D Point."

Usagi nodded. She was on track so far. It had happened just as Setsuna had said.

"After the Dark Kingdom's defeat, there was a month or so of peace. After that, the Death Busters attacked."

Of course. No Chibiusa traveling back to the past, no battle with the Black Moon Clan. Just a straight shot from the Dark Kingdom to the Death Busters. Usagi smiled. She was beginning to understand.

"Wait a second." Minako raised her hand, like a child in school. "I was under the impression that Hotaru …. I don't know …. was supposed to have died in some accident, or…"

Setsuna nodded. "That's true. In the original timeline, there was no Hotaru. She was killed in a lab explosion. But here in this alternate timeline, she lives."

Hearing that made Usagi's heart flutter. She should've died but didn't? How could that be? Now it was her turn to ask a question. She raised a hand, following Minako's example. "You said that Chibiusa's time-traveling more or less screwed up the natural order of things, right?"

Setsuna squinted her eyes. She obviously didn't like it phrased that way.

"Well, what does Chibiusa's traveling through time have to do with Hotaru being alive here in this stream? I mean, I don't see how the two are connected."

"Neither do I, in all honesty. The intricacies of the Fourth Dimension are such that even _I_ cannot grasp it all. Suffice it to say that Small Lady's arrival in the 20th Century created some kind of ripple effect, changing things that seemingly had nothing to do with the purpose of her presence here. In any case, Hotaru began life as a cyborg when, in the first time-stream, she was killed. But regardless, the Sailor Soldiers soon met up with the outer Sailors – Uranus, Neptune, and the original version of myself. With their combined power, the Holy Grail was formed and Sailor Moon defeated the Death Busters as Super Sailor Moon. Of course for us, it was Sailor Saturn who defeated them, but-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Minako didn't bother with a hand signal this time. "Since Hotaru was dead, there was no Sailor Saturn. Which would also mean no Mistress 9. Right?"

A nod signaled she was on the right track.

"But what I don't get is how _you_ fit in to this. The only reason you're here with us now is because Neo-Queen Serenity revived you from death and placed you here. Well, how could you be there in the old stream when we just skipped over the Black Moon thing, and-" She moaned, placing a hand to her forehead. "I feel sick."

"I guess you could say I'm special. Even now, as I'm talking to you, a version of me exists at the Space-Time Door. Essentially, I'm in two places at once. Since the Door doesn't belong to any one time period, since it's _outside_ of all measured time, there can, in fact, be two of me. Even though I've been stripped of my duties, an omnipresent version of me still carries them out. Understand?"

Blank stares answered the question.

"Never mind." Setsuna swatted a hand through the air. "It's not important. Anyway, after the Death Busters came the Dead Moon Circus. It was during this time that the Golden Crystal's seal was broken and given to Tuxedo Mask. However, neither the Amazon Trio nor the Amazoness Quartet had any place in the old timeline, so the confrontation with the Dead Moon was greatly shortened."

The Amazoness Quartet – Sailor Soldiers in their own right, their wills had been twisted and bent by Nehellenia. Usagi remembered that, at the end of the battle with the Dead Moon, Sailor Saturn had presented her with the four Amazon stones containing the life essences of the Quartet. Usagi had used her power to re-awaken the four, returning them to their proper places as Sailor Soldiers. After that, they disappeared, traveling into the future where they would act as members of Chibiusa's own Sailor Team.

"And after the Dead Moon – peace."

"No Galaxia?" Mamoru asked.

Setsuna shook her head. "Not in the source timeline."

No Black Moon, no Galaxia, only a minor scuffle with the Dead Moon Circus? Usagi was beginning to feel a little jealous of her original counterpart. Talk about having it easy.

Now came the pertinent information. "For a long while, things were peaceful. Everyone graduated from high school and went on to pursue a variety of interests. Years passed by, uneventful. But then news began to surface of a mysterious asteroid…"

_The asteroid! _In the midst of everything else, Usagi had totally forgotten about it! Like she didn't have enough on her mind. There were so many things going on already, so much they had yet to do – stop Death Phantom from taking over the world, first of all, returning Hotaru to her former self, and now this thing with the asteroid! It was all too much to think about. Too much to comprehend – especially now. _Then don't,_ her mind suggested. _Don't think about it. Put it out of mind for now. Concentrate on one thing at a time._

"…an asteroid headed for Earth, large enough to trigger a new extinction. There was widespread panic, made all the worse due to the fact that there was no contingency plan – no defensive measures to take. Discovery had come too late. And so, the people of the earth gave themselves over to death. But then a champion arose from the tumultuous crowd. Sailor Moon emerged once again to protect her star. She bathed the planet in the protective light of the White Moon and the asteroid broke apart in the atmosphere, vaporized by the holy brilliance. Thus was Crystal Tokyo created – born out of the extraordinary power surplus. Word of Sailor Moon's heroics traveled fast, and within a matter of months, she was crowned Queen of the Earth at just 22 years of age. She took on the royal name 'Neo-Queen Serenity' and established Crystal Tokyo as the planet's capital city. Shortly after ascending the throne, she gave birth to an heir. A daughter. Small Lady.

"Little by little, the earth moved into a new age of complete peace. There were no wars. Murder was nonexistent. All the people of the earth gave thanks and praise to their new Queen for having delivered them from the wretched ways of old. …Most everyone, at least. There was one man in particular who held a very strong grudge against the Queen - a middle-aged man who had been an influential politician before the Queen took the throne. A politician who had been on the fast track toward becoming Prime Minister before the Queen dissolved the office. A man with natural psychic powers.

"Satoshi," breathed Ami.

Setsuna nodded. "Yes. Satoshi Yomata. Only in the original timeline, he took on the role of Death Phantom as a political protest against the new rulers of the Earth. And he did so at the age of 46, not as a teenager. Gradually, he began to revive the death and crime people had forgotten. His campaign against the White Moon raged for years. At the end, he invaded Crystal Tokyo and destroyed it, corrupting it with his violence. Neo-Queen Serenity, who until that time had been more or less a passive observer, took a stand at that time and defeated him. But since he was human, the Queen couldn't rightly execute him, so she exiled him to the farthest planet of the solar system. Nemesis. There he remained for nearly a thousand years before returning to Earth with a group of similarly minded rebels. Calling their group 'The Black Moon Clan', they swept into Crystal Tokyo and took the city hostage. However, the royal Princess escaped and, by stealing one of my time-keys, she traveled back into the past to seek out the help of Sailor Moon." Now she stopped and turned toward Minako. "Now do you see why I was so hesitant to tell you this? History dictates Crystal Tokyo is founded _before_ the conflict with Death Phantom, but now here he is. Everything's become convoluted. Things are occurring at a faster rate than natural. History has gone off course. I was shocked to learn Wiseman was already making his presence known. I didn't know what to do or how to handle it. I-" The rest was cut off by a sob.

Rei stepped forward, Deimos still roosting on her arm. "You did what you thought was right. Nobody can blame you for that."

Those maroon eyes of Setsuna's flicked up, searching Rei's face. Then dropped away. Clearly she blamed herself for the current situation of things, even if nobody else did.

"But…" Ami coughed and looked around the room to make sure it was okay to continue. "But you said that Satoshi originally took on the role of Death Phantom as a protest. If that's true, what are his motivations now? Usagi's isn't yet Queen, so why would he want to rise up now?"

Setsuna shrugged. "I don't know."

Minako gave her a look.

"I'm telling the truth!' Setsuna screamed, suddenly furious. She lurched up from her seat and stormed over to the opposite end of the room, sitting down amid a cluster of potted plants.

And so story time came to an end. But before the curtain fully closed, there was one more question that had to be asked. A question that Usagi didn't _want_ to ask, but knew she had to. "Setsuna?"

One of the plants rustled. "Yes?"

"Usagi licked her lips. "The asteroid and the battle with Death Phantom …. how did I win?"

Very slowly, Setsuna rotated her head to face her. "With the power of the Silver Crystal. Of course."

Of course. Naturally. Why did she even have to ask? Always the Silver Crystal. It always made things right. You could always count on it to fix things. Except now. Head down, Usagi wondered away from the rest of the room. She weaved blindly in between rows of dark slot machines. She struck her hip on the blackjack table but didn't feel any pain. She was numb. A closed door up ahead. Through it, the men's bathroom. Usagi studied her reflection in one of the oval mirrors hanging above the sinks. All she could see was the shadowy outline of her odango hairstyle and nothing else. But the silhouette of her slumped shoulders told the story.

The Crystal.

Usagi ran a finger across its smooth surface. She felt the heft of it in her hand. A good-sized stone. Once again, she was tempted to try the transformation phrase. It trembled on her lips. Five magical words that, when strung together, gave birth to the legendary invincible soldier Sailor Moon. _Say it. It might just work this time. It couldn't hurt. _Usagi's tongue assumed the position, pressing lightly against the back of her teeth. _Silver Moon…._

No. She wouldn't torture herself this way. It was useless. It wouldn't work. How many times had she tried it already, just to be disappointed? And following along that same train of thought, how many times had she blithely transformed into Sailor Moon, taking that power for granted? Too many times to count. She wanted to cry. To scream. To laugh. To perform _some_ emotional ritual that would ease the burden that she felt pressing on her soul, but she couldn't conjure anything up. All her tears had been shed already. She was spent, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Numb.

Her parents – dead. The city – destroyed. And the beacon of light – extinguished.

Acting as if in a dream, Usagi brought the Silver Crystal up to her face. She studied it with disinterested eyes. Five hundred Usagis glared back at her, each one looking just as tired and defeated as the next. And there was something else reflected back from the glass – a second face behind the first.

Usagi lowered the Crystal. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she murmured without turning.

A pair of familiar hands gripped her shoulders. "We can't run away from this. We have to face it, however unpleasant the reality may be."

"I know that. It's just … so different now. Before, there was always this clear divide between what we did as Sailor Soldiers and the rest of the world. It used to be just us and the enemy – nobody else. Now that line's been crossed. Ordinary people have become involved. Half the city's population has been killed. It's just …. too involved for me." She halted, ready to further elaborate on that topic, but the next few sentences that came out of her mouth surprised even her, in that they didn't follow her current flow of thoughts. "I guess what really concerns me is that, if we fail, Chibiusa won't exist. And the way things are looking now…." An abrupt choking sensation seized her throat then and everything else came out in a hurried wet rush. "….I don't think we're going to win and because of that, Chibiusa will never be born! She'll never exist at all, which is worse than dying because a-at least you-you've been able to experience life be-before death and Chibusa won't – won't even get that chance."

Now the tears came. Usagi spilt them wearily. She didn't try to hold them back. She hadn't the energy.

Mamoru gently pulled her toward him. His bathrobe was soft, like the fuzzy hide of a rabbit. Usagi placed her head against it and closed her eyes. Her tears landed on the bare skin of his chest, exposed in a v-shape pattern at the base of his neck. "You're over analyzing things," he said. "We'll pull through just as we always have. Remember Galaxia?"

Ah yes. Galaxia. The battle that every other confrontation was judged against.

"Galaxia, the renegade Sailor Soldier, your most powerful enemy. Yet you defeated her. You won then. What makes this any different?"

Usagi didn't open her eyes. "It's worse now."

"How?" Asked Mamoru.

_The Sailor Crystals in the hands of the enemy. The Silver Crystal, powerless. Hotaru turned traitor. A giant asteroid zooming toward Earth. Tokyo destroyed. Take your pick._ All these things, yet Usagi merely said, "It just is."

A sigh. "Usa, we've talked about this. You're giving up and it's not-"

"You misunderstand me," she interrupted, pulling away from the softness of the robe. "I didn't say that I'm giving up. I'm still going to fight, I … I just don't think we're going to win. That's all."

Mamoru frowned.

"I'm just being realistic."

"Well, even if it _is_ pointless, let's still take a stand, alright? Let's continue to fight until we either win or go down."

Usagi took hold of a hand. "And if we do go down, at least we'll go down fighting."

"Exactly."

"For Chibiusa."

"For Chibiusa," Mamoru agreed.

"For the planet Earth."

"Yes. And for the future."

"The future," Usagi echoed.

Together they exited the bathroom, both of them smiling. But Usagi's was hollow. For the future. _A future that might never come to pass._

…

Outside, perched atop the roof of what had once been a karaoke bar, the girl formerly known as Hotaru Tomoe sat and waited. Silent. Unmoving. Watching rather than acting. She had their location; she had them in the palm of her hand. It had been easy to track them. Time was up. But she wanted to play it out just a bit more. Let them fret about it.

How wonderful it would be, to look into their eyes and to know that at last they understood. Hotaru was gone. That weak, retiring, socially inapt girl wasn't coming back. She had become something more. Whereas before, she had been timid, now she was courageous. She had been weak, but now was powerful beyond description. Previously unsure, now totally confident in the strength of her powers.

She had been Hotaru. But she had thrown away any semblance of her old identity. Now she was Sailor Nemesis – the Sailor Soldier of the planet Nemesis. And like her namesake, she would punish those who had wronged her. She would have her retribution and it would come via her divine hand.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. Dated September 3rd, 2000:

_-Today was Sunday which meant NO SCHOOL!!!! It was a fun day. Mamoru's leaving for America soon so Usagi, Chibiusa and me went shopping for things he'll need at Harvard. Oh and he came too. So we were going around different places and Chibiusa told me that her friends from school were going to come along. Their names were Naruru and Ruruna. Well they came and they were really RUDE and ANNOYING to me. They acted like they were her best friends when really I AM. They were hugging her and holding her hand and stuff just to make me mad. But anyway we went and found this super cool little pawnshop called Hammer Price Shop. They had SO many cute things. Lots of unique Sailor Moon items too! We didn't buy anything though. I think we're going back tomorrow after school. If we do I hope Naruru and Ruruna don't come. I do NOT like them!!! Everyone knows I am Chibiusa's best friend which means they CAN'T be!! Everyone knows I am her best friend. _

…

Fires raging unchecked in the distance. Smoke hanging thick and sickly in the air. Gusts of wind carrying the sound of sobbing throughout the streets. Sailor Nemesis took note of these things with a smile on her face. History was being rewritten. A new era was at hand. At last, at last. Following this night, things were going to change. A new history. A better history. And there, towering into the sky, dwarfing all else, spun the Black Poison Crystal monolith. It hovered mere feet above the ground. Oppressive-looking with its slick black edges, it could be seen from any point in the city. It was a herald signaling things to come. From that powerful stone, Satoshi would carve out his new kingdom. Soon, he would rule over all the earth as king, and she, his loyal servant, bodyguard, and Queen.

She could picture this new future so perfectly. In her mind's eye, she observed Satoshi, garbed in deep violet robes, seated upon a throne of Black Poison Crystal. He was accepting offerings. Gold, silver, precious jewels and rare incense. His subjects were only too happy to please him. They stretched as far as the eye could see – an unbroken line of humanity. Each had the mark of the Black Moon upon their foreheads. And in this vision, the best thing of all – she saw herself standing at Satoshi's right hand, dressed in the Sailor Soldier of planet Nemesis, his lover, his Queen. The protector of the new era.

What a wonderful world it would be. And it _would_ come. Oh, yes. Sailor Nemesis would see to it personally. She smiled again. Smiled, and eyed the scythe lying next to her. She picked it up. As she did, a small section of the maggoty wood broke off, lodging itself in her thumb. A splinter. It hurt, but Sailor Nemesis did not wince. Her pain was only temporary. For Satoshi's enemies, however, it would be eternal. With the Reaping Scythe, she would weed out those of the White Moon.

She could hear them now, actually. Huddled together inside the Poker Face. Through the stone and plaster walls, despite the distance between her and _them_, she could nevertheless hear their conversations quite clearly. She could smell them. Each time one of them took a step, she could feel it like an earthquake. All five of her senses were operating on overload. The power of the Black Poison Crystal had transformed her into something superhuman.

Something clattered in the street. A soft, metallic sound followed by a flurry of hushed voices. Instinctively, Sailor Nemesis readied her scythe for battle. She was up in a flash, her dark eyes already canvassing the dark street below for the source of the noise. Blood rushed through her veins in a juicy flow. Her heart pounded out a battle cadence. Her mind was a steel trap. She was ready for war. That noise. It could've been _them_.

But it wasn't. It was just a man and a little boy, father and son, perhaps, fleeing down the deserted road. The boy had tripped over an empty soda can. The father gasped at the noise. He slowed, but did not come to a complete stop as he helped the boy to his feet. He whispered something harsh to the child. Something hurried along by the unmistakable sound of fear. They couldn't stop, not even for a second. To do so would mean death.

Sailor Nemesis watched them go - two clunky shadows running crazy down the street, one much taller than the other. She didn't go after them. They were of no consequence to her. Small fish, you might say. They did not warrant any kind of attention from her. So she turned her attention back to the Poker Face.

"….. get out of here. We can't stay here forever." That was Makoto talking.

"Well, first we really should have a plan. I mean, running around like monkeys with our heads cut off isn't going to help anybody." Minako.

"Chickens," Ami corrected.

"What?" Minako again.

"Chickens with our heads cut-"

"The school. We have to go back." That sounded like Usagi.

"The school?" Mamoru repeated. Sailor Nemesis could picture him down there, his arm secured around his girlfriend's shoulders or waist, his eyes upon hers, his body pressed hotly against hers. "Why? What's wrong?"

Somebody shuffled their feet in a movement to turn around. Usagi, probably. "I'm worried about the others – Shingo, Naru, Gurio …. Motoki. They're all alone. We've got to go back! They might be in danger! We shouldn't have left! We shouldn't have-" The rest was lost in a rapid babble. Poor Usagi. She sounded totally frazzled. Nearly out of her mind. Killing her would be a great kindness, then. At least that way, she would be spared further misery. Death. The ultimate release.

Now came more voices, all speaking at once. They were talking about how best to move out. About how to transverse the distance back to the school without drawing unwanted attention to themselves.

_Too late for that,_ Nemesis mused. It really made it all the more exciting – them not knowing that she knew. Now the only remaining question was, how would she reveal herself to them? Should she just go ahead and crash through the roof, slicing people at random, or should she wait and let _them_ make the first move? She decided upon the latter. Patience, after all, was a virtue.

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long.

Slowly, warily, a side-door opened. From her spot above, Nemesis saw a head poke out of the slim opening. Long, silky black hair falling over a white smock. Rei Hino. She tossed her head right and left, sending her gorgeous hair spinning. And when she thought it safe, she motioned for the others to follow. One by one they exited. Single-file, like good little school children. Rei had taken on the duty of leader. On her heels came Ami, then Minako, and Setsuna. Haruka and Makoto, the strongest members of the team, physically, brought up the rear. Usagi was lost somewhere in the middle. Sailor Nemesis spotted a flash of her blonde hair peaking out from Mamoru's side. How sweet. He was protecting her. His head was constantly turning around as if on a turntable, his eyes continually searching the shadows for a threat.

And yet, he didn't see her. Nobody did.

Perfect. Sailor Nemesis rose slowly, so as to not attract attention. Her joints protested. She'd been sitting in the same position for too long. But never mind that. There would be action soon enough. Standing to her full height, Nemesis looked upon the tiny exodus once more – and to Haruka and Setsuna in particular. They had fancied themselves her parents, them and Michiru. But they had only taken her in out of guilt. How easily she understood that now. To prevent Saturn from awakening, they had planned to kill the girl Hotaru. And when Saturn did finally awake, they realized just how mistaken they had been all along. Sailor Saturn wasn't an enemy to be feared, but rather an envoy for change and rebirth. And so, guilty that they had tried to kill her human vessel, those three had taken in Hotaru as an act of penance. They'd never truly loved her. The only reason they acted as her parents was out of some warped sense of duty.

Well, the time of reckoning was at hand now. Sailor Saturn hadn't been their enemy, but Sailor _Nemesis_ most defiantly was.

But they would be the last to go, Haruka and Setsuna. It would be better, much more fun, to save the big game for last. Yes, Haruka and Setsuna last. Rei first. Just because she was at the front of the line. Nothing personal.

"Mars!" Cried out Sailor Nemesis. Her voice rang out loud and proud. No point in being discrete now.

Twelve blocks away, the Mars Crystal, entrapped within the Black Poison Crystal, blinked to life.

"Flame Sniper!"

Fire jetted up out of the nothingness. Red flames, orange tongues of light licking the night air. Sailor Nemesis reached out and grappled the plume of flame with a gloved hand. She forged it into the shape of a bow. Another portion of the fire, she fashioned into an arrow. Her heart racing, her eyes keen on her target, she drew the arrow back. Further, further, further. Back until taut. Good, and …. release!

It shot across space as quickly as a bullet fired from a gun – a streaming red projectile traveling down a lethal course. It all happened so fast, Rei didn't even have a chance to leap out of the way. It happened in the blink of an eye, yet Sailor Nemesis' eyes saw the whole thing played out in superb detail. There was the arrow, hurtling toward Rei, its target. And there was Rei, sublimely unaware. Everything on track so far.

But then, just seconds away from the arrow piercing Rei's heart, something happened. There was a rapid fluttering sound. The noise was alien to Nemesis' ears, and she couldn't immediately place it. Then something flew in front of Rei. Something small and black and writhing. Whatever it was let out some kind of screeching noise – like a squawking. That noise…. It sounded like…. Almost like….

_A bird? _

Kaboom.

Yes. It was a bird. Or rather, _had_ been a bird. All that remained of it now were a few smoldering black feathers drifting to the ground.

"PHOBOS!"

That cry, so heartfelt, so surprised, so wracked with grief, sent Sailor Nemesis reeling. Phobos. One of Rei's nasty pet ravens. It had flung itself in front of her, shielding her from the attack.

"Phobos?" The first few tears were just beginning to pool behind Rei's eyes. Like a child reaching for snowflakes, she stretched both hands out, grabbing for the feathers. After a few failed attempts, she managed to snag one. The tears now freely streaming down her cheeks, the miko took the black plume in between her index finger and thumb, holding it the way you would an old writing quill. Fire danced upon the end barbs. It looked something like a sparkler. "Phobos," she repeated. "Phobos."

Such an outpouring of emotion over something so stupid. It was just a dead bird. Sailor Nemesis didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the display of stupidity.

Her presence now revealed, sixteen eyes darted up to meet her. She saw fear reflected. She saw terror – which she liked to think of as fear unrefined. Yes, fear, terror, and …. hope? Could it be? Yes. Those two hopeful eyes belonged to Haruka. The optimistic fool. Still holding on to the memory of dear sweet Hotaru even now.

_Haruka-papa,_ thought Sailor Nemesis randomly. Hmm. It sounded strange. Had she ever called her that? It was hard to believe.

"Hotaru? Baby?" Haruka inched forward, her hands clasped around her mouth. "It's me, baby. Haruka-papa."

"Don't move. Don't. Even. Breathe." Mamoru had stepped in front of Usagi, acting out his role as protecting knight to the fullest. Clearly he was trying to put on a brave front, but Nemesis saw through his bravado. Dread lurked behind those deep blue eyes of his. And he was trembling. Slightly. It _could've_ been on account of him standing outside in the chilly air wearing nothing but a robe, but….

"Phobos."

"Hotaru?"

"Keep quiet!"

"On the count of three, we run, okay? Okay?"

"Phobos…"

"Hotaru?"

"Ssh!"

"Okay?"

"Hotaru, honey? Can you hear me?"

So many voices, all talking at once. Too many voices.

Sailor Nemesis squeezed her eyes shut. She clamped both hands over her ears in an effort to silence the myriad of voices. But still they seeped through. It was that _name_ she couldn't stand. Over and over again, that name!

"Hotaru?"

It slammed against her ears like the pounding of a wave against the side of a boat.

"Hotaru?"

_Stop it! Shut up!_ That name had no place here! The girl attached to it no longer existed! She was dead! Gone! Weakness had been replaced with strength, timidity with courage, and Sailor Nemesis had arisen to take the place of Hotaru.

Somebody was screaming. Sailor Nemesis listened to the sound, pleased that she had made such an impression on somebody. But then, it sounded more like a scream of blind frustration more so than fear… And then, it sounded very familiar. Really, it sounded like …. her. It _was_ her. She was the screaming lunatic.

"Hotaru?" Again. For the hundredth time.

"_SHUTTUP!! _Shut up, shut up, SHUT UUUUP!! That's NOT my name!!" Nemesis spat the words out at Haruka, but also to the entire crowd gathered below. It was time they all got that through their skulls. Little Miss Hotaru was not coming back.

Laughing crazily, Sailor Nemesis fell to her knees. She was losing it. Badly. _Now,_ she thought, managing to think the word during a brief flash of mental clarity. She would have to get rid of them all in one swift stroke. No time to pick and choose. All of them. Right here. With one attack. Now. Or else she would go completely unhinged.

All those blocks away, the monument of Black Poison Crystal spun leisurely above the city. Satoshi was back there. Waiting for her to complete the mission he'd assigned her. Thinking of Satoshi, picturing his handsome face – it brought a smile to her face. It washed away all the uncertainty, all the confusion. She would smite all of _them_ with one quick blow and then report back to him. And he would smile and fold her up into his arms and the two of them would be secure in the knowledge that no one else would ever oppose them.

_You've done well, Firefly,_ he would whisper into an ear.

And she to him: _It's been a pleasure to serve._

Now completely at ease, she stood, smoothing out her pleated black skirt. With new determination guiding her steps, she walked over to the roof's edge and glanced down. The narrow passage of the alleyway had forced the eight stragglers close together, as pretty as you please. That would make it easier.

With a sigh, Sailor Nemesis severed her connection with the Mars Crystal. She needed something else. The powers of the Jupiter Crystal. Her eyes closed, she ordered it to bestow its abilities upon her. There was some resistance at first. Stubborn thing that it was. But it came along soon enough. It really had no other option. It was encased within the Black Poison Crystal and as long as it was, Sailor Nemesis could use it and the rest of the Sailor Crystals as she saw fit. They belonged to her now. Soon, she would be the solar system's only Sailor Soldier.

"Jupiter!"

The Black Poison Crystal tower flashed green.

"Oak Evolution!"

Lightning streaked through the black sky above. Below, trapped in the narrow alleyway, Haruka and the others stared up at Sailor Nemesis, mouths agape. There she was, situated on the precipice of the roof – scythe in hand, a circlet of sizzling oak leaves around her head. They had only a moment to stare at her so, for the very next second-

_CHOOM! CHOOM! CHOOM!_

They came out of nowhere – dozens of leaves, propelled by a gale-force wind. Except they weren't leaves in the actual sense of the word, but rather tiny bits of lightning that had been stamped into the shape of leaves.

Now, even before Sailor Nemesis had spoken the attack phrase, she'd been aware of a sound in the distance growing steadily louder. Soft and slow at first, it rose both in dynamics and tempo. It took Nemesis a fraction of a second to identify the sound, but she was able to eventually. Hadn't she heard that same sound enough times before – that very same tune played the very same way? She could even name the piece: Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 in A major. But then, who would be doing such a thing? Hearing that lonely squeal of violin strings made her remember a tale she'd heard in school. While Rome burned to the ground, its emperor Nero had supposedly played the fiddle. At the time, the girl Hotaru hadn't paid much attention to the fable. But now, Sailor Nemesis looked back on it and could appreciate its merit. Even if the old legend was made up (as she suspected it to be), she could still admire the actions of its protagonist. History had marked the emperor Nero as one of the most powerful men to have ever lived. So secure was he in his own abilities to reconstruct the great empire that he hadn't been bothered in the least when news of the first fires had come to him via messenger. The total destruction of Rome through fire? Only a momentary setback. Of course the passage of time had also labeled Nero a sadist and a madman, but history was often written by the jealous.

While Rome burned, Nero played the fiddle.

While Tokyo burned, somebody else was out there, playing not the fiddle, but the violin. But who?

Nemesis grinned devilishly. _Who else?_

Then the music was overtaken by the roaring sound of a wave rising and she knew for sure.

_She's come back. _

It appeared out of the ether, as had the leaves – a giant rolling wave of sparkling water, so clear and blue it seemed unnatural. A wave? More like a tsunami. It came cresting over the top of the Poker Face, clearing the roof by at least twenty feet. The sour tang of sea salt filled Sailor Nemesis' nostrils. Then, crashing and spraying a fine mist, the super-wave rushed into the alleyway, forming a protective barrier of water between Haruka and the others and the oncoming lightning-based attack.

Water conducts electricity, and so it was then. There was a violent flash of white light as Jupiter Oak Evolution collided with Submarine Violon Tide. Then came a tremendous _zapping_ sound that struck Sailor Nemesis like a slap full in the face, forcing her to look away. And when she regained her composure, all that was left of either attack were a few electrified water droplets floating down from the sky. Haruka and company were unharmed. Somebody had protected them.

Not just somebody. Her.

Haruka spotted her first. As you would expect. She turned her attention up to the roof opposite Sailor Nemesis and whatever she saw made her eyes go wide and her mouth slack. Tears bubbled up. She extended both hands upward in a way that struck Nemesis as a highly comical, the tears flowing carelessly down her face. She mouthed a name. Initially, her vocal cords didn't seem as if they were going to cooperate, but then she managed to croak it out: "Michiru".

Only not Michiru, not really. For she had taken on the role of Sailor Soldier. Not Michiru, but Sailor Neptune. But then she was ravishing in either identity. Tracking Haruka's love-struck gaze, Nemesis saw what she saw.

She was up there, atop the Poker Face's roof – a lovely fairy-like figure of a woman clothed in varying shades of light green. Wavy hair ringed her face like wool. The edges of her dainty mouth were upturned slightly in a cherub's smile. Nestled snugly under her chin was a violin, polished to perfection. In her right hand she held the bow. Had she been up there the whole time, Nemesis wondered, watching her watching _them_? That made her feel a little uncomfortable – the fact that she could've been spying on her all this time. But whatever. This was a great opportunity! With the Neptune Crystal in her possession, she would have truly conquered all the Sailors of the White Moon Kingdom.

_Under the protection of the Deep Sea Star, Sailor Neptune, you've arrived at last. _

"Where'd you come from?" Haruka breathed. She sounded in awe, as if she were witnessing an apparition of the Holy Madonna or something. "I thought-"

"They shut down the airports. All outgoing flights were cancelled," Neptune responded. She favored Haruka with a coy smile. "It's nice seeing you again, by the way."

Now Haruka flashed Neptune one of her own. "Same here. And I'm sorry if-"

The relaxed features of Neptune's face suddenly went taut. She stole a quick look at Nemesis.

Nemesis waved at her, twiddling five black-gloved fingers - her variation on the ol' _f-you_ gesture.

Neptune looked away quickly. "Listen, I want you to get out of here. Run as fast as you can." Her eyes met Nemesis' again. "I'll take care of this."

That didn't seem to sit too well with Haruka. She appeared to jump up a bit, as if meaning to propel herself up to the roof alongside her partner. Her eyes were thin slits of pain. "No! She's changed, Michiru! You don't know! She's _changed! _Come with us, maybe we can figure a way out of this together!"

"I can handle this, Haruka. Trust me. That's all I ask." She lowered her instrument. Violin and bow disappeared into sparkles.

Weeping, Haruka managed: "But I don't want to loose you again!" Her voice warbled. Poor baby. It was all too much of an emotional scene for Sailor Nemesis. Still, seeing her old guardian in so much pain – well, it gave her some pleasure. How tragic it must be, reuniting after such a long while, only to be torn apart once more. And this time, the separation would be permanent. Unless you were one of those people who believed in a great, paradisal afterlife.

"We haven't the time for this!" Exclaimed Neptune, abruptly harsh. She kept her eyes on the Sailor Soldier clad in black before her, like a lion tamer who expects her furry charge to pounce at any moment. "Just go!"

Again, Haruka started up with a tearful chorus of "I won't let you do this", "It's too dangerous," and, Nemesis' personal favorite – "She's just not the SAME, Michiru!" Boo hoo. Glub, glub. Sa-nort. She was going along right well, crying and fussing, making a fantastic fool of herself – until Sailor Neptune said:

"Remember our duty! Protect the Princess!"

And just like that, the waterworks closed for the day. Haruka gasped and turned to Usagi (who looked bewildered and curiously out of place). "Yes," she whispered. She took hold of Usagi's wrist, nodding hastily at Mamoru. "Protect the Princess – our most sacred obligation." She then took off like a shot down the alley, Usagi in tow. The poor confused girl stumbled like a drunken fool at first, her legs stepping out at random intervals as if she were playing a sad game of Dance Dance Revolution. But she caught the beat soon enough. The others, five girls and one young man, back-stepped quickly, pressing themselves against the stone walls of the alley to allow for an easy escape. It happened in one precise movement, as though they had all rehearsed it.

Haruka and Usagi hit the street beyond, and the instant they did, Mamoru shouted, "Split up!"

They didn't have to be told twice. Each of them went scurrying in a different direction. Rei and Minako darted down the south part of the alley and then branched off, while Makoto, for reasons unknown to everybody but her, started up the Poker Face's rickety old fire escape. Setsuna went north. Brainbundle Ami spun around for a few seconds, disoriented, and subsequently fell flat on her rear.

Sailor Nemesis laughed.

Ami peeked up at her, blanched, and did not move an inch. She probably would've stayed there forever had Mamoru not taken her by the hand and hauled her out onto the street.

Bored, Nemesis turned her attention to Haruka. She was down the street a ways, hunched over a fluorescent green crotch rocket. A portion of the green plastic near the handlebars had been removed, exposing a network of wires. She was attempting a quick hot-wire. Somebody had left the bike behind during the panicked exodus of a few hours ago. The name "Ducati" was stenciled in black along the side. There were a few cars parked here and there along the road (and more than a few with their doors wide open and keys still in the ignition), but the motorcycle would be the best bet for maneuvering through the congested inner city streets where the wrecks would be plenty.

Usagi stood a few feet off to the side while Haruka worked her magic. She seemed antsy, bouncing up and down on her heels, rubbing her palms together. At one point, she seemed to sense the gaze of Nemesis upon her, for she turned slightly and flicked her eyes up to the roof she was on. She gulped and tapped Haruka on the back. "Um, Haruka? How much longer?"

"Gotta get these two wires together. Just one more minute."

"Well, try to hurry up because we have about one more _second_ before Hotaru comes after us."

"I'm trying, okay?!"

"Come on!"

"It's harder than it looks!"

"Come on!"

Then there was a spark as wire kissed wire and the Ducati hummed to life. Haruka pumped her hand once in the air as a sign of self-congratulations and pounced on the bike, throwing her right leg expertly over the side, as if mounting a horse. "Get on!" Usagi stole one final look back in Sailor Nemesis' general direction, and then jumped on the seat behind Haruka. One swift boot sent the kickstand horizontal. Haruka gunned the engine twice, probably a habit left over from her old motocross days, and the tires squealed, spraying bits of grime into the air. Then they were off, Princess and protector, riding away into the unknown.

Up on the roof, Sailor Nemesis watched them grow smaller. Smaller and smaller until they roared around a corner, passing from sight. Let them go. She would find them all sooner or later. Or Satoshi would. Either way. The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize something – she despised them all, there was no truer fact than this, but at the same time, she held a certain … admiration for them, those who were so willing to put their lives on the line as part of their duty. Those girls and that man – Ami, Rei, Makoto, Minako, Setsuna, Haruka, Sailor Neptune there, Mamoru – they were all singularly devoted to Usagi in the same way she was devoted to Satoshi. It wasn't nearly the same kind of devotion, obviously (hers being the purest), but she could understand where they were coming from, the emotions that drove them.

_-You were one of them once. _

What the-?! Nemesis gasped. That voice! That voice speaking to her through her own mind! "You were one of them once." Those hadn't been _her_ thoughts! She hadn't …. hadn't…. Could there be somebody else inside her?

-_Who's there?_ She fired the question off in her head, fueling it with fury so that anyone hiding would be frightened into responding. _Show yourself!_

No answer. So be it. There _was_ somebody else inside her brain, though. She was certain of it. She could sense their sudden presence like a weight within her skull. Lurking behind the neurons, peeping out from around the cells. So be it. She would deal with that when the time came. Besides, she had experience with alien forces invading her body. Mistress 9, anyone? And then there had been that pawnshop spirit… Yep, the body of Hotaru Tomoe was a cheap room to rent for any wayfaring phantom entity.

The other invaders had long since passed, and this one would soon follow suit. Yes. Now then, to the other matter at hand.

Nemesis half expected Neptune to have disappeared in the time her attention had been focused elsewhere, but there she was – still standing on the roof opposite. Nemesis had to chuckle. If she had had any sense at all, she _would've_ run. Once again, she was forced to admire certain characteristics her enemies possessed. Michiru's bravery, in this case. Or her stupidity. These days, she really couldn't tell one from the other.

"Sailor Neptune." Nemesis greeted the other Soldier warmly enough. No sense in being rude about it, now was there? And Michiru had taught her SUCH good manners.

"Hotaru," Neptune said.

"Not anymore."

A moment of silence as each woman sized up her competition. The space between them grew; the alleyway below took on the proportions of a vast, rapid river. Each building, the Poker Face as well as the building opposite, were now two continents, existing whole and apart from each other – separated by an ocean of time and unpleasant memories.

"So," Nemesis said, after determining that this other Sailor standing across the way wasn't going to be that much of a threat. "How are we going to go about this? Shall I count to three and us just go at it, or would you be receptive to the idea of us taking turns?"

Neptune shook her head. "I'm not going to fight you, Hotaru."

That name again. It still bothered her, but this time she didn't make a big deal out of it. It was pretty obvious what was going on here. By saying _the name_ over and over again, she was probably hoping that something would click, sending Nemesis running to her side, tears of regret streaming down her face. A psychological ploy. Very clever. Very modern.

"You're afraid of me, I can feel it. You won't fight me because you know you'll lose."

"Sometimes, the best course of action to take is no action at all."

With no great difficulty, Sailor Nemesis bounded over the side of the roof, onto the street where the motorcycle had been abandoned. She landed flat on her feet. The sharp stilettos of her boots imbedded themselves deep into the hard cement like two knives plunging into flesh. "Wow. Read that in a fortune cookie, did you?"

Down came Sailor Neptune, gliding toward the earth like a bubble. She touched down a few feet away. Again, they stared at each other, preferring inward contemplation over action, at least for the time being. They stood like that for at least three minutes – two tiny figures filling up the entire street with their powerful auras. Neither spoke. Neither budged an inch. A woman in light green, a girl in deepest black. The eighth planet of the solar system pitted against the tenth. Light and dark. Soldier and deserter. Mother and-

"You should've stayed away," Nemesis growled. The lighthearted fun of the situation was quickly losing its appeal. There was business to be done. People to kill.

"I couldn't leave you," Neptune said. "You, Setsuna, … Haruka. You all are like my family. _Are_ my family. And I couldn't leave-"

"But you did. You wrote Haruka a note and left. Left without even saying goodbye to me." An itch flared up behind one of Nemesis' eyes, but she blinked it away. "Not that it would've mattered to me one way or the other. But it would have been the courteous thing to do. And you used to pride yourself on proper etiquette."

It had been a rhetorical question. Or statement, or whatever. But Neptune replied back anyway. The heartache clear in her voice, her eyes watering, she said: "It was wrong of me. And I … I don't know _why_ I did it. The only explanation I can think of is that it was Satoshi."

Not again. Blaming Satoshi for THEIR shortcomings! How hypocritical could you get? Why couldn't they just admit that they weren't as pure and righteous as they claimed to be? Placing the blame on somebody else – how juvenile. Nemesis laughed and turned her head to the side.

"He's been working against us since the beginning!" Neptune continued. "He's been implanting thoughts into our minds since the first day he came into our lives! And he's been doing the same to you, Hotaru. That's why I don't blame you for turning to…" she gestured tiredly at Sailor Nemesis' black vinyl uniform. "..for turning to this. He's a manipulator, Hotaru. He doesn't love you. He loves your _power_, the things you can do for him, but not you – not you the person." Her voice caught. She swept her sea-colored hair away from her face. Her eyes were running. "I should've realized it. I should have noticed something wasn't right. But I was too involved with myself. And for that, I'm sorry."

A wadded-up newspaper sailed through the air between them like a tumbleweed in a Western. Nemesis watched it go with mild interest. It dipped low, then high, then wrapped around a fire hydrant before taking off into the sky again.

"From the bottom of my heart, I apologize. Can you believe that, Hotaru? It's my fault you're like this now. I should've known. Should've said something." She began to walk forward, somewhat unbalanced, until she came to a stop an arm's length away from Nemesis. "But it's not too late. Just take my hand-" she stretched it out. "-and we'll forget all this. We'll make it right. You're my daughter and I love you, Hota-"

That's as far as she got. From out of nowhere came the fist. There was a clear woosh of air as Sailor Nemesis' arm swung. It connected solidly with the left side of Neptune's perfect face. Something snapped, like dry twigs. Her Greek nose breaking, perhaps, the graceful curve of it forever ruined. She went down. And as she did so, her wavy locks became entangled in Nemesis' fist. There was a ripping sound (although it was more than likely her imagination adding extra color) and Neptune went down for the count. A broken angel smashed against the pavement.

"Get up. If you're not going to fight back, the least you could do is provide me a satisfactory punching bag."

And, believe it or not, she did. Shakily, wobbling, teetering a bit from side to side, Neptune got back on her feet. She looked squarely into the eyes of Sailor Nemesis, her gaze unwavering, and said, "I won't fight you, Hotaru."

Courage or stupidity?

"But you're going to take it," Nemesis said. "You better believe it."

A kick this time. A swift kick behind the knees to send the opponent toppling over. Neptune fell and landed in a pile of street-side trash. The sudden impact of her body split the white plastic bags and an array of garbage came pouring out. Soft drink cans, old magazines, moldy food particles, a black, half-eaten banana, balled-up tissues – all this and more cascaded over Sailor Neptune's limp form.

Her face utterly emotionless, Nemesis trudged over to her. Daughter? When had she even been her daughter? When had anyone ever cared for her like that?

Her hand darted out and grabbed the green, star-shaped brooch in the center of Neptune's uniform. And, without very much effort, she yanked the other woman to her feet. Strange that she had been able to do it – Nemesis was at least a foot shorter than her foe, but she did it just the same. Anger, rage, wrath – they had taken control of her body, providing her with a strength she never knew she possessed. With those emotions guiding her fists and fueling her fire, she felt tall as a giant.

_Wham! _Another blow to the face. This time, the blow had been square to the nose. Nemesis could feel cartilage breaking beneath her knuckles. Blood spurted out in a fine red jet from the right nostril. Each heartbeat sent it spraying out anew.

Another crack to the face. And another. And another still. Soon, Nemesis was raining down fistfuls of fury upon her once-guardian. Blood vessels beneath the skin ruptured, causing the flesh to bruise. Both eyes swelled shut. Angelic pink lips split and ran with blood. Each new blow provided Sailor Neptune with a new definition of agony. And even as Nemesis was providing the torture, she was screaming – screaming words that were barely distinguishable, words that ran into one another, forming a long continuous stream of hateful venom.

"It _IS_ your fault! You should've warned me about Satoshi! If you thought he was an enemy all along, you should've TOLD ME! Me most of all!!"

Wham. Wham.

And then a curious thing happened. Neptune's face changed. The hair turned from a deep green color to platinum blonde hue – almost white. The rounded curves of her face became sharper, more angular, until it wasn't her face at all. It was Haruka.

"And it's YOUR fault, too!!' Nemesis screamed, pummeling this new face with both hands. By now, Neptune / Haruka had fallen to the ground again and Nemesis was straddling the body, "Your fault for choosing your cars and your bike rallies over me! For never even _trying_ to understand me!"

Wham. Wham.

Then the face changed again. The hair grew to ten times its previous length. From almost white to jet-black. The skin darkened. The eyes altered their color from blue to maroon. Setsuna.

"Your fault for being so distant!"

Wham. Wham.

One by one, the faces of the Sailors flipped by, like a deck of cards being shuffled. And one by one, she voiced her grievances against them, closing each little discourse with a solid punch to the mug in question.

And then, just when she was sure it was over, another face overtook the last. This one had long red hair done up in a braid around the hairline. The skin had all the luster of a heliophobic vampire - and all the softness of a newly dead corpse. The eyes that stared up at Sailor Nemesis were thin and there seemed to be a secret joke going one behind the purple irises.

She knew this face. Knew it very well. Kaolinite. Kaolinite who started off as Papa's lab assistant and had then weaseled her way in his private life. Kaolinite, strutting through the halls of the mansion, peeking in on Hotaru when she thought she was asleep, reveling in the way she had just barged in and took control of everything.

"You thought you could take Mom's place." Nemesis smiled – the first true smile of the last few minutes. This was going to be good. After all these years, after all the time she had spent quietly suffering under her rule of the Tomoe household, now she had the opportunity to let her true feelings be known.

She did this by way of smashing her fists into Kaolinite's face. Over and over again. What was it people sometimes said? "I'm gonna let my fists do the talking"? Well, Nemesis was employing that technique now, and boy, were they having a conversation.

Then the hateful features of her late father's lab assistant began to run together like wax until she, too, was gone. And the last face to appear, to endure the judgment of Sailor Nemesis, was that of her father. The disgraced Dr. Tomoe himself.

Taken somewhat aback, Sailor Nemesis arose. The spectacled left eye of her father, magnified to the proportion of a grapefruit, followed her. The right eye remained a mystery, obscured behind a bizarre lens-covering. Her father. Long dead, but looking up at her regardless. She hated this man, detested him more than all the others combined for reasons too numerous to mention. Yet she could not bring herself to strike him. Even dead, his memory held some sort of patriarchal authority over her.

So she turned from his lingering, wooden gaze. "It's your fault, too," she said. She looked down. The curved blade of the Reaping Scythe held in her hands reflected back to her a face that was pained – a face that was saying goodbye to the memory of her father once and for all. And that was good. This chapter of her life had needed to be closed for a long time now. "You gave me this life when I never wanted it to begin with."

There. The end. That was that. She started to walk off, a job completed, but-

"Ho….Hota … ru?"

A disjointed murmur, thick with agony.

She turned. Neptune was back again – if she'd ever left at all, that was. The Sailor was still spread out on her back, prostrate with pain. "Hotaru."

How could she talk? Her face was one swollen mass of tissue, the lips two giant, bleeding sausages. How could she talk? How was she even conscious?

"You're still. In there. Ho. Taru." A spasm of fresh torment shuddered through her body. One of Neptune's hands began to flop on the pavement like a captured fish gasping for air. There was blood. So much of it. It had pooled up beneath her, staining the white bodice of her uniform an ugly shade.

"Your reflection. It won't…." Neptune took in a massive breath of air to complete the sentence. "…lie." And with that last effort, she fainted. Or passed away. Either way, she had finally succumbed to her injuries.

_My reflection,_ Sailor Nemesis mused. _It won't lie to me._ A little parting riddle? What had she meant by that? It wasn't a great concern, whatever the meaning might've been. And really, Nemesis was about to call it a day and go after the rest of the gang when she noticed that Neptune was holding something. Something that hadn't been there before. Grasped in one limp hand: the Deep Aqua Mirror. Its reflective side was turned away from her. Stenciled flower patterns ran the circumference of the under side, the side currently facing her. _My reflection. _Now she understood. Neptune's Mirror was supposed to tell her something.

Before she fully knew what she was doing, Nemesis was reaching a hand out to take the Mirror from Neptune's hands. _Wait a second! Just hold on! _

Why? What was the matter?

Well, suppose the image reflected back to her wasn't the one she wanted to see? The Deep Aqua Mirror had a way of uncovering secrets best left hidden. It told the truth, no matter how unpleasant it might be. What if she wasn't as strong as she'd thought? What if a little part of the old Hotaru still existed? If that proved to be the case, it should show. It would be reflected in the enchanted glass and Sailor Nemesis would cease to exist.

The easiest thing would be to turn away. The _sensible_ thing would be to leave the mirror where it was – in Neptune's hands. But she had to know. She had come so far, as a person, as this new Sailor Soldier … it would be foolish not to look. She had defeated her own inner demons, she was sure of it. So what harm was there in looking?

Operating as if in a haze, Sailor Nemesis took hold of the Mirror. Carefully, making sure to keep the reflective side facing away, she brought it before her face. What would it show?

_Be sure,_ her mind warned. _Once you look into the depths of your soul, you can't forget or take it back. _

This had the potential to destroy her. Uncertainty began to seep over her resolution, causing her hands to shake. She couldn't do it. She couldn't look. Maybe the old Hotaru was still there! She hadn't gotten rid of her after all! All these uncertainties. All these doubts. But then she felt the weight of the earrings she wore. Earrings made of Black Poison Crystal. Satoshi had given them to her. As a symbol of his love for her. A symbol of his trust in her. And she remembered the touch of his hand over hers, the passionate way he kissed her, that charming nickname he'd given her – Firefly. She recalled all these things and more and she wasn't unsure any longer.

A sure flick of the wrist and the Mirror flipped over. And Sailor Nemesis met eyes with the girl staring back at her. A silent contemplation. Her face was so emotionless that the passing observer would've been hard pressed to figure out what was going on inside that head of hers. She didn't look surprised. Nor did she look particularly relieved. Her face could've been a blank slab of stone for all the expression she showed.

She remained that way for a long while. Rooted to the spot, staring intensely into the Mirror. She kept the same pose for so long, that it gave the impression whatever she'd seen had rendered her hypnotized. But then – a sudden explosion of movement.

The hand holding the Deep Aqua Mirror went blurring down. At the same time, up came the right knee. Then there was a glittering tinkle of sound and glass as the Deep Aqua Mirror, talisman of Neptune, shattered. It had been driven with such force into her knee that the upper portion of the Mirror broke off from the handgrip. The glass shattered into an uncountable number of shards, which fell to the ground like glistening rain droplets.

Sailor Nemesis tossed the handgrip over one shoulder with a laugh. Clearly a cackle of relief, but if anyone had mentioned this to her, she would have denied it totally.

She had seen nothing.

Only her reflection.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. Dated September 6th, 2000:

_-Bad news. Chibiusa went back to the future today. She said she was excited about getting her very own sailor crystal and she wanted to go back to the 30__th__ century to tell her mom and dad everything that's happened to her. I told her I didn't want her to go. I told her I'd miss her. But she promised me she'd come back. And soon. So even though I'm really sad, I'll try to keep on smiling. Because she's going to come back. She promised she would. And I believe her because we're BFFL – Best Friends For Life! Chibiusa and Hotaru! _

…

It would have been fun in another situation – racing through the city streets at breakneck speed, hands linked tight around Haruka's waist… Once upon a time, Mamoru had owned a motorcycle. However, he had been forced to sale it to alleviate some of his mounting college debts. But, oh, what fun it had been to ride with him. One such excursion came readily to mind now. It had been during spring, or maybe early summer – Usagi couldn't really remember which, but she knew it had been a warm, sunny day. The sun peeking out from behind the fluffy clouds above, the air cool and clean against her skin, the wind tugging playfully at her hair. How she had laughed. And how she had screamed when Mamoru took those corners a little too hard. There hadn't been anything particularly special about that ride, nothing on the surface of it that separated it from any other they had taken together, except it had been the first one since the whole Galaxia affair. Usagi remembered it well, how she had held on to Mamoru extra tight, how she had pressed her face against his back, keeping her eyes open so that she could drink in all of the sights she had before taken for granted. All of it, so clear. That day, so joyous. So carefree. Her with Mamoru, alive again. The rest of the gang, only a phone call away. The weather, so utterly perfect. And not an enemy in sight.

Then, when with the sun sinking fast, Mamoru had driven over to the Fruit Parlor and treated Usagi to a triple-decker blueberry fudgesicle. It had been there, over ice cream and milkshakes, that he told her he _wasn't_ going to study abroad after all – that he was going to stay in Japan. That he was going to stay with her.

She had cried. She asked him if he was sure and he had replied, "Of course I am", and the day, already perfect, closed on a near euphoric level.

The skies that day had been a bright, sapphire blue. Now they were black as pitch. That day, there had been birds singing and children laughing in the park. Now, the sound of crackling fires and wailing sirens pervaded all else. That day had been so peaceful. At the present moment, it was hard to believe that such a word even existed.

"Hang on!"

Usagi started. She'd been daydreaming – a dangerous thing to do when you were riding two to a motorbike with your butt hanging halfway off the seat. Usagi folded her arms tighter around Haruka's firm abdomen. They were flying. With Mamoru, a motorcycle ride had been a pleasurable experience – seeing the sights of the city, laughing and giggling, rarely getting above 50 mph (the crowded Tokyo thoroughfares didn't allow anything crazy). But with Haruka, it was a whole other story. Close inspection of the speedometer revealed that they were traveling in speeds excess of 183 kilometers per hour. Or 114 miles per hour, if you preferred. Usagi, peeking over Haruka's shoulder, saw that little red needle fluctuating around the far right end of the spectrum and nearly lost her lunch. They were taking turns so fast, her center of balance was totally shot.

Right, left, left, right. That seemed to be the general pattern. As expected, empty cars clogged the roads in many places, forcing Haruka to mount the sidewalk. Storefronts zipped by in a blur. Trying to read the passing street signs was an exercise in futility. They were simply going too fast. All Usagi knew was that they were moving deeper into the city.

As they did, Usagi's thoughts turned to Neptune. Should they have left her there to face Hotaru all by herself? Really, they'd had no other choice. What help could they have possibly been to her, them being unable to transform? Even so, Usagi couldn't shake the feeling that they had done Neptune a terrible wrong. Reason it all you like, but in the end, they had deserted her. Michiru …. She hoped she was okay. And not only her, but also Mamoru and the others.

A sharp jolt as the motorcycle dipped back street-level from the slightly raised sidewalk sent Usagi almost tumbling off. She gritted her teeth and tried to steady herself. How did Haruka stand it? She had her eyes on the unfurling road ahead, her fingers wrapped tight around the accelerator. Fortunately, this section of town was pretty much clear as far as stalled cars were concerned, which would've made traveling all the easier. _Un_fortunately, most of the buildings here had collapsed, and mountains of rubble blocking portions of the highway made for slow going.

At least it would've made for slow going had it been any sane person doing the driving. As it was, though, Haruka was the one behind the handlebars and she didn't seem overly concerned about a few broken bones. As long as you were still breathing, you were good, apparently. Not wanting to ease up on the speed, she simply shifted into another gear. Black exhaust belched from the rear of the bike, startling Usagi a little, and the cycle hesitated for a moment before shooting off. It roared up the debris heap, wobbling dangerously. It felt like being onboard a tiny ship in the middle of a hurricane. Or maybe it was more like suffering through a 9-pointer earthquake. Jolting up and down, her butt already numb, Usagi tried to force her rattling teeth together and attempted to place her mind elsewhere.

They bounced up toward the summit, the bike sputtering and teetering over the uneven surface, but never falling. Haruka steered toward the bigger chunks of rubble, using them as stepping-stones. Usagi tried to keep her eyes shut during the treacherous up-hill climb, but at one point a particularly rough bump sent them flying open. And in the brief second that they were open, she spotted something white jetting out from the dark wreckage. _Like a skeleton's finger poking up from the earth._ She shuddered at the thought. But it wasn't nearly anything so macabre. It was a sink. Just your plain, everyday white porcelain bathroom sink. But gazing upon it set off a chain of emotions within Usagi. Variations on sadness, mostly. How many people had washed their hands at that sink? And how many of them now lay buried beneath the ruins here – the same ruins Haruka was running over. _We're desecrating a gravesite,_ Usagi thought. Seeing that sink, and realizing all that it stood for, all the lives lost – it brought everything into perspective. It wasn't just about her and the Sailor Crystals anymore. This time, the entire world was caught up in the battle. True, that had been the case for many of the battles previous, but it had never before felt as real as it did now. Before, the main goal of all the enemies had been obtaining the Silver Crystal – which would help them on their quest to destroy / rule the world. Now, the main objective was firstly the world and the retrieval of the Silver Crystal and the other Sailor Crystals was more like an afterthought. If Death Phantom weren't stopped here – tonight - he would reach out and conquer the rest of the planet. And after that, feeling confident in his power, maybe he would take a notion to expand his influence … maybe even beyond the galaxy.

The motorcycle crested the rubble heap (_gravesite,_ Usagi amended) and shimmied down. As with anything, going down was much easer than going up. A three-way fork in the road loomed ahead. Haruka opted for continuing down the center. Little by little, the skyscrapers appeared again. Usagi gazed upward at them and was able to let out a tiny pent-up breath that she'd been holding. Seeing them standing, if only a few, meant that Death Phantom hadn't totally washed the current ways of the world away. It gave her hope. It eased some of her-

Woah. What was that?

Usagi frowned, straining her eyes toward the very tips of the dark edifices. She'd seen something. Someone was up there, dashing from roof to roof. Nah. Couldn't be. Not someone – something. A bird, nothing more. _But I saw it,_ Usagi inwardly protested. A humanoid shape leaping among the tower tops. And if she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing, it could mean trouble. For only one type of person would be capable of such a feat: a Sailor Soldier.

_Relax, it's just Neptune._ Yeah, could be. But in her heart Usagi knew different. She knew that it wasn't Neptune up there, which also meant that she had failed in her effort to reprogram Hotaru.

Then the darkened figure sailed across the street to the buildings on the other side, confirming all fears. The two long, black ribbons fluttering out behind, the glint of metal as that sickle-shaped blade caught the light… Sailor Nemesis had come for them.

"Um, Haruka?" Usagi tapped her driver on the shoulder. "You might want to speed up. We're being followed."

Haruka's head turned. "Whaddya mean, we're-"

In that short instant, with Haruka's attention momentarily averted from the road, an elongated black swirl of ribbons hit the pavement not ten feet ahead of them. Usagi saw it first. She saw Hotaru's face coming at them, growing bigger by the second - as if viewed under a quickly focusing microscope. She saw the inverted black crescent moon upon her forehead; saw her lips curl into a smile. She saw the scythe in her hands being raised up, up, up…

"LOOK OUT!" Usagi pointed ahead and ducked as low as she could. Haruka snapped her eyes back to the road, swore loudly and banked sharply to the left. The motorcycle zipped past on Hotaru's right side – so close to her that Usagi could feet the wisp of her skirt against her cheek. The left side of the bike scraped against the cement, producing a squeal of grinding metal. At the same moment it did so, Hotaru swung the scythe.

It passed mere inches above Usagi's head – severing a few strands of hair but nothing more. The sloppy left turn had saved her from a decapitation. Hotaru cried out in frustration and made a grab for one of her trailing pigtails. She caught one and pulled. Usagi's head snapped painfully back. The tiny bones in her neck popped. Then Haruka stepped on the gas and the elusive pigtail fluttered out of Hotaru's grasp.

Off they went, careening through the city remnants, racing through the highways and byways, leaving Hotaru in the dust. But even so, Usagi could hear her. She was speaking. Mumbling something. To herself…

"MercuryaquaMarsflameJupiteroakVenusloveandbeauty-"

What in the world? It sounded like a chant, almost.

"-SpaceChronosSubmarineviolonTuxedolasmoking-"

Usagi could feel the air change. It was brimming with energy. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

"Rhapsody! Sniper! Evolution! Shock! Turbulence! Typhoon! Tide! Bomber"

There was a curious sound. Not an explosion, exactly, but more like the strings of a guitar being strummed. It grew louder. And louder. And louder still.

Against her better judgment, Usagi looked back …. and saw nothing. There was no street behind them, no skyscrapers, no Hotaru. Nothing - nothing but a great white void. It took up the entire length of the road and rose about ten stories into the sky. It was a massive wall of energy, created by the combination of eight powerful Sailor Crystal-based attacks. And it was coming straight toward them.

Usagi screamed in Haruka's ear, screamed for her to _step on it_, but that strange guitar-strumming noise had grown to the point of overpowering all else. It filled Usagi's ear canals to the maximum, to the breaking point. She felt as though her eardrums would burst from the sheer punishment of it all. She could actually feel the sound vibrations slapping the bare skin of her neck, arms, and legs. The best thing she could even begin to compare it with would be going to a heavy metal concert and placing your ear directly against one of the front-stage speakers.

Again, ignoring the sound advice of her left-brain, she turned. The wall had gained. It was racing toward them, perhaps even gaining speed.

They zipped past a parked car with its lights still on. Its driver had abandoned it in the middle of the street. Usagi had seen it in the distance and now followed it as they left it behind. She counted the seconds between the time they'd passed it and the time the energy-wall struck it.

Four full seconds later, (that is, four rounds of 1-banana, 2-banana, etc cetera) the white void ripped into the back end of the vehicle. The trunk popped up and evaporated into twisting shreds of metal. The car, all however-many pounds of it, was lifted up off the pavement. Its front end went angling up as the white nothingness slid over the body, devouring metal, rubber, and an expensive custom paint job. Half a millisecond later, all that remained were the two headlights, floating in the whiteness like disembodied eyes – still shining despite the lack of an engine or battery. Then they blinked out.

Extinguished forever.

_Four seconds. Four tiny seconds between it and us._ Not good. All it was going to take was one tiny hesitation on Haruka's part – letting up on the gas to consider which new street to take, slowing for a blockage in the road – _anything_ and they were dead.

Haruka darted in between several more empty cars. Each suffered the same fate as the previous one. But this time when Usagi counted, there was only a three second difference. It was gaining. No question about it.

Usagi felt herself screaming – felt the sensation of her throat constricting, but did not hear the actual cry over the din of everything else. There was nothing left to do. She couldn't very well jump off the motorcycle – she would never escape the attack on foot – and the blasted thing couldn't go any faster. What else could be done?

Then, incredibly, she could hear Haruka screaming something to her. Hard to understand due to the roar, but it sounded something like, "Close your eyes". Usagi knew good advice when she heard it, so she squeezed both eyes shut as tightly as she could. Beads of sweat dripping down her spine, she buried her head into the crook of Haruka's shoulder and prayed and pleaded with the gods that be that this _wasn't_ as bad as it looked and that they _were_ going to get through this.

That made it a little better. After all, if you didn't know what was coming, you couldn't worry about it. But then, even with her eyes closed, she still knew what was coming – maybe not the obstacles lying ahead, but the death only three seconds away.

Eyes closed, hanging onto Haruka, Usagi might've been spared watching the road lash and blur below and around them, but that also meant she didn't have time to brace for any of the sharp turns. At one point during the maniac drive, after a long straight stretch, Haruka jerked the cycle left – nearly sending Usagi flying off the rear end. Surprised by the sudden shift in her center of gravity, she screamed, wrapped her legs around Haruka's and her arms around the other woman's neck. There was a slight bump as they shot up onto the sidewalk, then another smooth stretch. And then, quite suddenly, the bike seemed to be plunging through the ground. Usagi felt the tires lift off the ground and the image of that car flashed to mind – that car tilting into the air, its headlights still going, as the void enveloped it.

They hadn't been fast enough. Even Haruka's expert driving skills hadn't been enough to save them.

But then the tires smacked back down to the surface. Hard. Usagi's chin bounced painfully off one of Haruka's shoulders. She squealed in pain and surprise, but did not open her eyes. The motorcycle was racing down a very steep decline, like a rollercoaster plunging down that first big hill. It felt like they were angled straight down, 90 degrees, and Usagi poised herself for the crash she felt was certain to come.

It came about two seconds later. And for all the impact bracing she had done, Usagi was thrown from the back of the bike anyway. Her eyes flew open. She was sailing through the air. Up above, the inky blackness of night sky swirled around like a witch's brew being mixed. Usagi threw out a random hand for Haruka, brushed her fingers against Haruka's shirt, and went smashing into cold, hard concrete.

It took her only a few seconds to regain her senses. After all, in such precarious situations, one didn't have the luxury of just sitting around. You had to act quick and stay on top of your toes. Or else you would end up dead. Usagi took a quick assessment of any injures she had sustained (which amounted to a few bruises, a banged-up kneecap and a throbbing funny bone) and then danced her eyes quickly about for a fix on her current location.

They had crash-landed in a ditch of some kind. A long, stretching cement canyon. Across from her, Usagi noticed a large tunnel carved into one of the slopping walls. _A drainage trench… _To the left of her, a rickety bridge passed over the channel. Two thick cables ran down the center of it, which, back in the old days, would have allowed for the cable-train to pass by this area.

Curious to see more, Usagi stood. But no sooner had she gotten to her feet, than a hand seized her around the wrist and jerked. She spun. Haruka's face flew before her eyes. She yanked her arm back, sending Usagi spinning into her chest like a deranged ballerina. She was saying something – Haruka. Her mouth was flapping up and down rapidly but the words were a mystery. The noise. It had gotten louder. It now sounded like a train whistle amplified to the _nth_ degree.

Haruka pulled Usagi across the trench to the other side. She was pointing, motioning to the tunnel.

_RAAAAAAAAAOOOOOO!!!! _

Usagi turned. The energy wall had reached the edge of the precipice. It had reached _them_! She saw it - a flat, white expanse.

Suddenly, she felt herself being shoved. She tumbled backward into the tunnel and before she could make sense of it, Haruka fell atop her. The taller, bigger woman took hold of Usagi's head and buried it into her bosom. She pressed her to the ground, which was wet and smelled mildly of mildew, and then just collapsed over her – using her stronger body as a shield.

The sound, no longer that of a train whistle but more like an extended trumpet blast, grew louder still. _Like the trumpets of Judgment Day,_ Usagi thought. She cringed – her back against the moist insides of the tunnel, her front mashed against Haruka – and waited for the end.

This wasn't going to work, this plan of theirs. How could it? _Can you even call it a "plan"? _Usagi's frantic mind asked itself. _Crouched low with your hands over your head, hoping to survive_?

The trumpets flared. The inside of the tunnel was awash in white light. Everything was shaking. They were going to die. How could it be otherwise? Either the tunnel would collapse in on itself or the attack would catch up to them. Usagi's mind, ever so unhelpful, painted a particularly vivid picture of the second scenario. First, she and Haruka would be lifted off the ground. Then, most likely, their extremities would be the first to go. She saw it and felt it as though it were already happening – the skin of her arms and legs being sheered of by the fierce light, then her skeleton being blown apart, bones reduced to ash…

She only wished the others would continue the fight in her stead.

Another blast of sound and …. all went quiet. The ground stopped shaking. The intrusive white light faded. _We're in the eye of the storm,_ Usagi thought. _It'll come back._

But it didn't. They stayed that way for a while afterward; the two of them

pretzeled together like lovers who simply weren't able to hold it until they got home. Then, when Haruka was sure the danger had passed, she lifted up off Usagi and offered her a hand to stand. Together, they exited the dark of the tunnel.

The bridge with the cables running along it was gone. It had been totally erased from the scenery. The only thing suggesting it had ever actually been there in the first place was a lone support pillar rising from the drainage trench. It jutted out of the ground and into the sky but then ended abruptly, supporting nothing but empty space. Besides that, everything looked the same. The tops of the slopping walls were singed black, but other than that…

_It passed over us. _Suddenly weak-kneed, Usagi smiled. She looked up. The sky was still there, as were the stars. As was hope.

Haruka grabbed Usagi by the hand. Her mouth moved, but Usagi could hear nothing but a ringing sound reverberating in her ears. She was temporarily deaf. But she didn't need to know what Haruka was saying. They both knew what had to be done next.

They both ran to the Ducati – dented, with its green paint severely scratched, but still in running shape. Haruka righted the motorcycle and hoped on behind the handlebars. Usagi took her place behind Haruka.

They knew where to go. They knew what they had to do.

The school. To save the world.

…

Glorious. Absolutely wonderful. Death Phantom surveyed his handiwork and somewhere under his hood, a smile formed. The sun was still out, leaving the city bathed in a canopy of induced nightfall. It looked so beautiful, the fires burning here and there, jetting high along the horizon – such an exquisite contrast of color, orange licking against black. He'd never been much of an art admirer, but even he had to take a moment to appreciate the allure of the surrounding scene, made all the more wonderful because it had been his doing. This, all this destruction – it had been by the command of his hand.

Standing there at the base of the hovering Black Poison Crystal monolith, Death Phantom made an observation about his life. As far back as he could remember he had craved power. That and knowledge had been the two driving forces in his life. Even as a child, he had felt the need for those things. As a young child attending elementary school, he had always made it a point to get on the teacher's good side as soon as possible. In that way, he could covertly exert his influence over the other students by way of the teacher.

People were tools to him. Always had been. And why should it have been otherwise? Where other boys had collected stamps or baseball cards, Satoshi collected people. He used to sit up in bed at night and count the number of souls he had under his sway. Oh, how that had given him pleasure! There was just something about pulling the wool over someone's eyes that excited him. Perhaps that was why politics had always sounded so appealing to him. So many people to control. An entire country under his power! Once, he had even fancied himself the country's future Prime Minister. He'd already had it planned out – going to a prestigious university, perhaps double-majoring in Political Science and Law. But that had been before. Before he had obtained true power. True power to match his natural gifts. His abilities elevated him above everyone else. They made him special. They made him better. This was a fact.

"Everyone's special. Everyone's good at something." This was a lie – one he had heard often. This was an overly sentimental feel-good phrase created by people who were too stupid to adequately function in society. You had it admit, some people served no purpose in life. Some people really were better off dead.

Death Phantom sighed. Time for a little tour.

He held out his hands and his crystal ball, the one Hotaru had given him, floated into place. He swept his hand over the smooth glass. "Show me."

Instantly, the sphere blazed forth with light. Images swirled around inside the glass, slightly distorted. Buildings in ruin. Unchecked fires. Bodies in the streets. A family of four – mother, father and two small boys, cowering behind some trashcans, avoiding a passing troop of droids. Death Phantom laughed and the father turned slightly, as if he had sensed an alien set of eyes watching him.

_You've nearly accomplished your mission._

Death Phantom gasped. He fell upon the ground, a purple puddle. The images within the glass faded at once. "Master! Lord!" He rose up, bringing his torso off the ground and bent low again. Up and down. Bowing. Over and over. "I am your servant!"

_Yes. And you have my favor._

Euphoria! Tears trickled down Death Phantom's cheeks. He'd never felt such gratitude. He tried to speak, to wave off such a complement, but could not find it within himself to muster up the sound.

_But…_

"But"? There was a but? Oh, wretched existence! He had displeased the Master – if only in some small way. Death Phantom ground his teeth together. He wished death upon himself.

_But I want to see it with my own eyes. I want to walk amid the destruction you have ushered forth. And I want to greet an old friend._ The voice of the Master grew loud and terrible inside his mind – the voice of a pure, raging storm, the voice of the universe speaking directly to him. _Throw open the gate, my child! Unleash me! Unleash me!!_

"Yes! Yes, of course!" Death Phantom jumped to his feet. "Come, my lord! Do with this world as you see fit!" He reached both hands into the sky. He threw back his head and wept. "Your time is now!"

And even with his eyes closed, he saw the glory. It penetrated his eyelids. It went straight to his brain. Such awesome majesty! Could any human look upon it and survive?

And the voice. Now growing louder. Stronger. More a part of the physical world.

_HOW I'VE WAITED FOR THIS MOMENT!!! _

…

Juuban High. Dead ahead. Haruka slowed to a roll but Usagi couldn't wait for her to come to a complete stop. She jumped awkwardly off the back and went flying toward the entrance. She slammed through the front doors. She navigated the dark maze of hallways, taking the same route she always took. How familiar. How different. The smell of chalk. The same old bulletin boards advertising the same old classes. Would it ever be the same? Would she ever walk down these halls again?

She found her way back. Back to the same room she and the others had occupied before. The door was shut. She flung it open.

There was a surprised shriek as the entire room jumped. Those nearest the doors went running toward the back, screaming hysterically. Everyone huddled against the walls. They all had their eyes on Usagi. Each one of them – the students, the teachers, the school's janitorial staff – they all had the same expression on their face: fear. There was no need to break it down any further than that. Fear. Plain and simple.

Walking on rubbery legs, Usagi entered the room. She scanned the area for familiar faces. For anyone she-

"Usagi!"

A shape bolted off from the wall. It hurtled toward her and crashed into her midsection. It was a person. It was her brother. He planted his face into her chest and sobbed. His hands clenched themselves tightly around her, one taking her by the waist, the other seizing her shoulders. "Usagi! You came back!"

Usagi smiled. "I came back." Then, just like her mother had sometimes done when one of her babies had had a bad day, she began to stroke his hair, _sshing_ him as she did. Lightly, softly. As her hands brushed through his shaggy hair, it struck her that he was her only family now. They were orphans.

Tears pressed themselves against her eyes.

Never mind that. Usagi ordered the tears to retreat. And though her vision was a little misty, she searched for more comforting faces in the crowd. There was Naru, hunched over in the far corner over there with Gurio at her side. They had their heads bent low, staring intently at the floor – trying their very hardest _not_ to look like they were eavesdropping. And Luna. And Artemis. They were walking toward her now.

Gently, Usagi pushed Shingo out of the hug. He stepped back but did not leave her side. "Hey," she said, bending low for the cats. "What's the matter?"

_Something_ was the matter. Though they were cats and did not possess the typical human features, Usagi could tell something was up. For one thing, Luna wasn't looking her in the face. And Luna always made eye contact. Always. And Artemis seemed to be fidgeting.

"What's going on? You're scaring me." A dozen thoughts swam through her mind, but no situation she could imagine was any worse than where they were right now.

"Well, um…" Luna tried to fake a sneeze. She looked sideways at Artemis. Artemis looked at her.

Uh oh. Luna not making eye contact was one thing, but _speechless? _Usagi readied herself for the news. _And you better believe it's going to be bad, _she reminded herself.

"It's Motoki," Artemis finally spoke up. "He…"

No. Motoki? NO. Usagi's eyes canvassed the room – agitated, desperate. There had been a face she hadn't seen. Shingo, Naru and Gurio were all accounted for, but she hadn't seen…

She jerked up, still searching. It couldn't be. It just couldn't! He'd promised! He gave his word that Motoki wouldn't…

There. She spotted him - or rather, spotted his legs sticking out from behind the lectern at the front of the room. He was lying on the ground (but that didn't mean anything), with his head in his sister's lap (and that didn't mean anything either). Usagi rushed over. And up close, there was no denying it.

Blood. Everywhere. A guttural cry of anguish wrenched itself from between Usagi's lips. She took up a bloody hand of Motoki's. She begged him to open his eyes. He didn't. Luna was saying something now, telling her he was gone. He was gone and there was nothing more she or anyone else could do for him and it was okay, it was okay. Usagi bit back, saying that he was just in a coma or something and Ami was on the way and when she got to the school, she would make him better because she was practically a doctor anyway, and-

And.

And.

Another one dead. Motoki this time. _Let's tally it, shall we?_ Usagi snorted back a bitter laugh. _Rei's grandpa, Ami's mom,_ your _parents, half the freakin' city and now Motoki! Did you forget anyone else? Maybe, because everyone's dying so fast, it's really hard to keep up. _

She kissed Motoki's cheek, inwardly giving him one last goodbye. She tasted blood on her lips but ignored it. "I'll stop by the arcade after school," she whispered randomly into one dead ear. "Okay? Save the Sailor V game for me, will you? And I might need some help getting through the 5th level. You remember how h-hard the f-fifth level is." There. She'd said her peace. Usagi touched eyes upon his face and what she saw broke her heart. Streams of blood running down… She turned away. Motoki. He had been one of her oldest friends. She'd known him before any of the others – before Ami, before Rei, before Makoto and Minako. He'd been there before Mamoru. Before Sailor Moon.

Her last link to the world before was gone.

"Usagi?"

"Unazuki." She could barely manage saying the name. It was all she could do to look into the face of Motoki's redheaded little sister.

"So you're Sailor Moon?"

Usagi nodded, choking on a new sob.

"And my brother, he knew you were Sailor Moon?"

Again, Usagi nodded, tears pouring afresh from her eyes.

Unazuki lunged across the body. Her right hand blazed across Usagi's face. Sharp needles of pain exploded deep within the tissue of her cheeks. The room spun. Her vision went starry for a second.

"Then damn you for getting him mixed up in this." Unazkui spat the words into Usagi's face and was gone, leaving the body of her brother in the hands of the one who had practically killed him. She stormed out of the room, the sound of her crying growing fainter and fainter, echoing off the empty school corridors.

Time passed. Usagi continued her vigil over the corpse. Shingo remained at her side, ever fearful, light-years away from the cocky jock of a few days ago. Time passed.

"It isn't your fault," said Luna. She nudged herself against Usagi's leg, mewing sadly.

"It is, though. You heard her."

"She was just upset. She didn't mean it."

"She did."

Luna sighed. "Be strong. You have to put this out of your mind for now."

Usagi was about to fire back, to say it _was_ her fault, that she _couldn't_ put it out of mind, and would she please just _go away_, when the darkness of the room receded. Light poured in through the windows, washing away all shadows. The room broke into a hushed rumble of murmurs. Had the sun reappeared? Was it even still really daytime? All the clocks had stopped, so there was no telling. But more than that, was it … over?

A few students ventured toward the windows.

"What's going on?" Usagi asked.

"I have no idea," Luna replied.

A scream. A shout.

One of the students at the window pushed back, yelling swears. Another hit the floor in a dead faint. A third held his ground, transfixed by whatever he was seeing.

Usagi leapt to her feet. "What's going on?!"

"I have no idea!" Luna exclaimed.

Usagi pushed her way through the now-raving throng of people. She made her way to a window. Looked out. And gasped. She would have screamed, too, had she been your average person. But during her career as a Sailor Soldier, she had seen plenty of weird sights, so she was kind of used to things like this. Even so, she had to admit this one ranked right up there on the freaky meter.

The sky was on fire.

It was as if someone had doused the very fabric of the sky with lighter fluid and taken a match to it. Streaks of flame tore through the heavens in fiery ribbons. It seemed to be flowing from a source. Usagi narrowed her vision and spied the tower of Black Poison Crystal in the distance. Yep, it was defiantly radiating out from there. As she watched, the ribbons merged and grew fat until every inch of black night was gone. Within seconds, the entire sky was a blanket of fire. The flames bubbled and seethed. Pulsated. It almost looked alive…

_We meet again, Princess. _

No.

Oh. No.

Usagi felt herself backing away from the window. That voice – the same one she'd heard before while falling. Her foot struck something soft and fleshy. One of the cats. She felt herself falling down. She hit the floor. That voice!!

_Now_ she screamed. She didn't care who was listening or what kind of an example she was setting for Shingo. That voice! She knew that voice!

"Usagi! What is it? Usagi?" Luna bit down on one of her legs, trying to snap her out of her hysteria. "Talk to me! USAGI!"

She hadn't heard. She didn't know.

Chaos.

Chaos had returned and was - Right. Outside. The window.

Still screaming, Usagi fumbled for the Silver Crystal. She held it in two violently shaking hands. "SilverMoonCrystalPowerMakeUP!!!"

Nothing.

_Oh, no. OH NOOOOO!!! _Usagi swallowed. She cupped the Crystal tighter and tried again. Still nothing.

_It's not working!_ She bit down hard on her lip, bringing blood. _What should I do?! It's still not working!!! Somebody help me!!_

_Maybe, well, maybe it needs to be inside the transformation brooch,_ a more composed, but still highly terrified portion of her mind suggested.

Right. Good idea. In went the Silver Crystal to the Eternal Moon Article. Okay. There. Now it would have to work. "Silver Moon Crystal Power! Make-up!"

No. That didn't work, either.

Outside, the skies blazed. Outside, Chaos waited.

_Speak slowly. Maybe, oh God, maybe it can't understand you because you're talking too fast. _

Shaking, her voice catching, she tried once more. "Suh-suh-Silver Mu-mu-mmmmmm-"

_STOP IT! Just say it! Chaos is back! They need Sailor Moon!_

Deep breaths. "Silver. Moon Crystal. Power. Make. Up."

Nothing!

"Why?!" Usagi shook her head wildly. What else could she do? The Crystal was powerless.

What more was it going to take?

Faces rippled through her mind. Faces of the dead. Some she recognized, like those of her parents, like that of Motoki's, but most were a mystery. Those represented the nameless thousands she had never known but who had nevertheless died at the hands of Death Phantom. They were looking at her as she was looking at them. They had charged her with avenging their deaths but now that justice would never come.

What more was it going to take?

Suddenly enraged, madder than she had never been before in her entire life, Usagi's hands tore into the transformation brooch. She ripped off the covering and threw it aside. She heard it clatter somewhere. Angry fingers wedged the Crystal out. She held the blasted thing inches from her face. A million eyes stared back at her, mocking.

"What do you want?!" she screamed at the Crystal. She shook it as if she could somehow jiggle it to full power. "What more is it going to take, huh?! HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE?!!"

She gnashed her teeth together. The Moon Crystal. It had failed it when she needed it most.

Crazed with fury, she drew back her hand and hurled the Crystal across the room.

It struck the wall and shattered.

Usagi blinked. The fires of Chaos caught the pieces and made them shine. There were so many pieces. So many tiny pieces of … Silver Moon Crystal?

It…. It…. What just happened?

Somewhere at her side, Luna gasped. Artemis appeared amid the forest of legs. He sniffed at the broken Crystal. He looked up, directly at Usagi; his green eyes round ovals of disbelief.

The Silver Moon Crystal was gone. Forever.

Usagi had no words. Death Phantom had razed the city, Hotaru had re-awakened as the Sailor Soldier of Nemesis, Chaos was back, and the Silver Crystal was destroyed. What else could you call it but….

…..a hopeless situation.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. Dated November 10th, 2000:

_Chibiusa._

…

Two years ago, she stood at the center of the galaxy, both her feet and her mind teetering upon the edge of a precipice. Beneath her feet swirled the Galaxy Cauldron – birthplace of stars, of star seeds, of life itself. The holiest site in the universe. It was beautiful. …No. Not "beautiful". That word did not even begin to do it justice. It was glorious. It was literally breath taking. Perfection. Colors, vibrant hues of every imaginable shade, twisted and churned slowly in a clockwise rotation. That circular splash of sparkle drew your eye in, away from the oppressive blackness of space. It seemed to be pulsating, breathing with the life not yet birthed within it. For this was the Galaxy Cauldron, birthplace of everything – origin point of all things. Beautiful. Stunning.

But an ugliness lurked. Beneath the glittering colors, mingled in amongst the immature stars, existing in a parasitic relationship with the Cauldron itself was Chaos. Evil had overtaken this sacred place – evil in its most concentrated form. It had bonded so completely with the Cauldron that separation would prove impossible. Any harm done to Chaos would also harm the Cauldron.

There were two choices. One, destroy the Galaxy Cauldron to bring about the end of Chaos, thereby ushering in an era of peace eternal. Or two, do nothing. The first choice seemed the logical route to take, but like most things, there was a catch. No more Cauldron, no more stars. New life would cease to exist. Babies would not be born. The population of the galaxy would remain static. Flowers would die with the coming winter and stay dead. Suns would burn out and that portion of the sky would remain dark, as there would be nothing else to take their place. And when the final thing in the universe died, the story would end. There would be nothing afterward. No new hope, no new life, no new anything, But there would be peace.

An impossible decision weighed heavily upon her wings. She could feel the burden as surely as a weight dragging her down. Down into a choice she didn't want to make. She was a Sailor Soldier, a sworn protector of love and justice, a defender of the galaxy. It was her duty to choose the path of peace. But did that mean the end of new things? Was that an acceptable sacrifice?

She looked down at her hands. Was it her turn to swing the sickle of death? If something was necessary, if something _had_ to be done no matter what the consequences, did that automatically make that decision the right one?

Chaos mocked her as she tried to come to grips with this, belittling her with its thunderous voice. It boasted of its impending victory. It invited her to hurl herself into the Cauldron, into the place it had prepared to be her grave. Chaos laughed at her tiny girl self. It didn't think her much of a challenge. But even as it continued its jeering and proclamations of its power, she could hear the voice of the galaxy itself. Small and nearly overpowered by the voice of Chaos, but speaking to her just the same. _Put and end to it. Even if it means the end of life itself, please end this suffering of ours. For Chaos has sullied this Cauldron beyond all repair. Please end it._ That's what it told her. That was the galaxy's wish.

But there had to be another way. There always was.

Eternal Sailor Moon stepped forward, her mind made up. She reached the edge of the cliff. She looked down. At the Cauldron, at Chaos. And without so much as a thought, she pushed up on her toes and pitched her body forward. Down she went, hurtling through the chasm of space. A pair of angel wings had sprouted from her back and she used these for steering. She was heading for the Cauldron's core. The closer she got, the harder it was to remain conscious. The power radiating from the Cauldron was unlike anything she had ever encountered before. The dark energies of Chaos mixed with the beautiful, positive life force of all the Sailor Crystals Chaos had claimed for its own.

It was this power that she called on now – the power of all the Sailor Soldiers that had lost their lives to Chaos' war and all the Sailor Soldiers still living throughout the galaxy.

She reached the core. She could feel the power welling up within her, pure and brilliant and eternal.

Her uniform blew apart in a flurry of feathers. She stood at the Galaxy Cauldron's core, a slim naked girl with the wings of an angel extending from her back. The power had reached its unbearable zenith now, and she hurled it at Chaos, ripping the foul thing to shreds. It screamed at her to stop but she didn't. It begged for mercy but she offered none. Such wonderful Sailor energy – strong enough to destroy evil, but gentle enough to preserve life.

And as the power ripped through her body, she could feel her skin dissolving, her bones liquefying. She was dying. But that was all right. This was the Galaxy Cauldron, the place hope called home. And she had won. She had beaten Chaos.

…

Or so she had thought. Now, here in the present, she wasn't so sure of that anymore.

Across the room, small clusters of students had mustered their collective courage and were standing at the windows, peeking at the sight outside. They pointed through the cracked glass, shaking their heads slowly in what could've been either a subdued kind of terror or a perverse sense of wonderment. One of the students stationed at the window moved to whisper something in another's ear and as he did, Usagi caught a brief glimpse of the burning sky again. She quickly diverted her attention elsewhere. She couldn't look at it. Given the choice, she would've gladly preferred the false night to _this_.

"Usagi, what is it? What's the matter?"

Luna. Usagi took one of her blonde pigtails and began to braid it nervously. She kept her eyes glued to the floor. She didn't want to look up. If she did, her eyes would lock automatically with the sky. That or with the Silver Crystal shards. _The Crystal. _It happened all over again, replayed in the high-def only the mind's television is capable of producing: her raising her hand in fury, the Silver Crystal being slung across the room like the world's most expensive baseball, the Crystal slamming into the wall, the Crystal breaking, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces, those pieces falling to the floor. She had destroyed it. That was the funniest part – that _she_ had destroyed it. After all the enemies and all the battles, she had been the one to destroy forever the world's hope. Her. The very person charged to protect the Silver Crystal. It kind of made everything seem pointless, all the conflicts of the past…. If she had know then that this was going to be her future, that _she_ was going to be the one who sealed the world's fate like this, well, maybe she wouldn't have fought so hard. All those battles over the future of the Earth. Senseless now. Meaningless. She had been the one. The one who had doomed everyone forever.

"Usagi?"

"Chaos is back," she said, surprising even herself. Surprising in that she had found the strength to talk at all and that she had chosen Chaos as the symbol of her suffering out of all the other bad things going on.

"Chaos-?"

The next few sentences came out in a watery gush from Usagi's mouth, all at once. She made no effort to slow the tide or to edit any of her thoughts because she knew holding back anything this late in the game could be dangerous. Better to let others know the situation. Maybe they could offer help. "Don't ask me how it's possible, but it is. He's back."

No. That didn't sound right. Not "he". That thing out there had never been human; didn't deserve the use of a human pronoun.

"_It's_ back," Usagi corrected. Now she fixed her eyes upon Luna with a deep, stabbing, questioning stare – a stare so unlike the childish glazed-over look usually present on her face. "But how can that be? I defeated it! I know I did! I remember it all so clearly. So why…"

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night (That day? That afternoon? What time was it, anyway? All sense of time progression had been lost.), Usagi felt the weight of a thousand different stresses weighing upon her. Her neck ached with a stiff tightness. Her eyes saw the schoolroom she was in, but the vision was distorted. Blurry. Her entire body felt like a rusty old spring. She was exhausted – her energy reserves totally empty. Getting up off the floor would prove too much of an effort. Both her mind and body were winding down to a halt. She couldn't take much more.

"I'm tired, Luna."

She closed her eyes and instantly found herself drifting off. To where, she had no idea. But then, any place would be better than the one she was in. The anxious chatter of the people around her grew faint. She could feel her muscles relaxing somewhat. She could also feel Luna stepping into her arms. A wan smile tickled over Usagi's mouth. Both hands locked into position – the left wrapping itself around the cat, the other gently stroking her black fur.

Stroking. Stroking. She was so soft. So tiny (despite her _big_ mouth). With each passing of the hand, Usagi could feel Luna's heart hard at work, pumping both blood and courage throughout her little feline body.

They remained on the floor for a while, a teenage girl gently stroking her pet cat. A common enough sight, taking place in a most unusual situation. After a time, Usagi spoke, hesitant to break the peaceful stillness. "How's it going to end?"

No reply. For a long time. Then: "It'll end however it's _going_ to end."

Still floating in her dreamy world, a million miles away from _this_ one, Usagi nodded. So she had suspected. Things had become so blatantly bad that any reassuring lie would at once become obvious. So they had reached that point. The point of no return.

Suddenly everyone in the room tensed as one. Somebody new had arrived. Usagi felt the air constrict around her and she was promptly awake again. Her eyes flew open. She bounced to her feet, knocking poor Luna aside in the process. There was a figure in the doorway over yonder. Mamoru? Yes, it had to be! Simply _had_ to be! Oh, Mamoru! Arms outstretched, she ran to him, pushing people aside right and left. She always hated being away from him in times of crisis. They worked better as a pair. One found strength in the other.

_Oh, Mamo-chan! He_ would tell her the lies she so desperately needed to hear. _He_ would tell her it was going to end in a victory and together, they would plan what to do next. Together. Side by side.

Usagi was about five feet from the person in the doorway now and she had Mamoru's name on her lips when she realized it wasn't him. Not unless he had taken to wearing dresses. No, not Mamoru. But someone Usagi recognized nevertheless.

"She gave me ten minutes," Michiru whispered. And collapsed.

Someone whooshed past the stunned Usagi, calling out Michiru's name. She noted the head of platinum blonde hair on the passing stranger, the somewhat muscular build, the rather husky voice and knew it to be Haruka. How long had she been there? Had she … Had she seen what Usagi had done?

Even if she had, so what? That didn't matter now. What _did_ matter was making sure Michiru was okay. Usagi rushed to her teammate's side, sat next to Haruka and eyed the battered Michiru with astonishment – astonishment that she had made it all the way back to the school in such a condition.

As always, the ever-dapper Michiru looked ravishing in the outfit she had selected for the day – in this case, an ankle-length summer dress, pattered with a rose design. Gold bracelets hung silent on her left wrist. The first thing Usagi noticed, the first thing she always noticed about Michiru, was her skin. The woman had the skin of a professional Vaseline model. Soft and milky white. Flawless. Every time Usagi caught a Nivea ad on television, she always half expected to see Michiru's face before the camera panned up. But as the eye traveled upward from the dress, that white skin became purple. And yellow. The exposed area of skin above the sweetheart neckline was a gruesome splatter of dark colors. It looked something like molded cheese. But that wasn't the worst of it. Continuing the visual examination ever upward, the neck was the next thing to take in. Such a fine, slender neck – one made for wearing pearls. But the red handprints found there didn't really go with anything. Leaving the neck, the face.

Or what was left of the face. All the features commonly associated with a face, the eyes, nose, lips, appeared to have merged together somehow, making Michiru's usually divine countenance look more like a hideous computer graphic. Her lips, usually two pink rose pedals placed upon the white pillow of her skin – soft to the touch, fully kissable – were now blue and ragged with tiny lacerations. Due to the extreme about of bruising along the mouth area, the corners of the mouth seemed unnaturally elongated, giving it the appearance of a mouth upturned in a Glasgow smile. The nose was a busted wreck of a thing, while the eyes, deep and green beneath the lids, were swollen shut into thin razors.

Yet, despite the injuries sustained, a beauty still managed to shine through. Those cuts and bruises and that busted nose – they were battle scars. Medals of valor. Testaments of courage. Usagi thought them beautiful. Even the droplets of blood splattered upon her dress matched perfectly the color of the rose pattern.

At that moment, sitting next to Haruka, cradling Michiru's busted head in her hands, Usagi felt a great swell of respect for the woman. That she had willingly put herself through this… And with that sense of profound reverence came a crushing feeling of shame on Usagi's part. She had left her. She had left Michiru to take on Hotaru by herself, even though she knew it would be dangerous. Even though she knew there was a very real chance she could be killed.

She should have stayed. Stayed, despite whatever Haruka or Michiru herself told her.

And now she was going to die. Usagi knew this the way she knew Thursday followed Wednesday. The way she knew the approximate time the sun rose and set. There was no denying it. The picture in her head, of Michiru spread out on the floor - still, silent, bloody – it matched too perfectly the very real sight of Motoki lying just over there. Dead. And soon, Michiru was going join him. Usagi fought against the idea, tried to shake it out her tried. If she'd been able, she would have traded spots with her in the blink of an eye.

She just felt so … guilty.

Michiru must have read the expression on her face, because she rose herself up off the floor a bit and spoke. "It's not as bad as it looks. Honestly."

"Don't talk," Usagi said. "Rest. You need it." She choked a bit on the last word. Her throat suddenly seemed very dry.

Haruka reinforced this gentle order by placing a hand on one of Michiru's shoulders and easing her back down to ground. "What were you thinking, staying behind like that?" she asked. Usagi noted her voice – quiet and even, not accusatory in any way, but possessing a certain hidden vexation nonetheless. "I told you. Hotaru's different now. On _his_ side. So why'd you do it?" At this, Haruka's voice broke into sobs. "Why'd you have to go and get yourself hurt?"

It must've been very difficult for her to do so, but somehow Michiru managed to lift up both arms. She wrapped them around Haruka's neck and pulled her close, lowering her head down. She spoke something into her ear - after which, Haruka gave a hapless laugh and nodded. Usagi wasn't close enough to know for sure, but what she thought had been said was, "I had to do what I had to do."

I had to do what I had to do. The motto of a true soldier.

Michiru then offered up her hand and Haruka squeezed it. Quite tenderly, of course. This was how they communicated their feelings – through actions, through a few simple gestures. Only rarely did they ever rely on verbal communication to express love. Words were too clumsy. In the language of their romance, a wink of the eye or the squeeze of a hand could boast the same level of intimacy as lovemaking held for another couple. Usagi didn't quite understand this kind of quiet courtship. In her world, the more kisses the better. If Mamoru wanted to rent an airplane and write her name in the skies, well, she certainly wasn't going to stop him.

Now Michiru turned her puffy eyes from Haruka to Usagi. "Sh-she took my Crystal. It wasn't something I intended to do, letting her have it like that, but she-"

"That doesn't matter," Usagi said. "You're still with us. That's the main thing."

And it was.

"-Never thought I'd be happy to see _this_ place again."

"I just hope Haruka and Usagi made it here safely."

New voices. Out in the hallway. Growing louder. It sounded like Minako and Ami.

Her heart quickening at the sound, Usagi shot to her feet. She made for the doorway, then looked apologetically back at Michiru. Haruka nodded and waved her onward. Usagi gave a nod of her own and then went to meet up with her friends.

They looked dreadful. Black streaks of dirt and grime played crisscross over their arms and faces. Their hair was disheveled. Their clothes were ripped at the seams and the bow from Ami's school uniform had gone missing somewhere along the way. But not even that. Their faces were the worst to look at, for they told the story of the night. The hurt. The sacrifice. Heavy eyes, weary mouths – they said it all. But when they saw their Princess standing there unharmed, their eyes alit with relief and their mouths broke into smiles.

"Guys," Usagi said. She made an effort to control her voice. It met with marginal success.

"Usagi!" Both Minako and Ami wrapped her into a hug. They both smelled vile (sweat mixed with trash) but it was a sweet reunion nonetheless.

After a few short seconds of embrace, they pulled apart. "Guess we're the first ones here," Minako said. Her eyes moved off Usagi's face. She was looking around, searching for the others. Searching, too, perhaps, for one person in particular.

With a quick pivot of the head, Usagi glanced back at Motoki. (_Motoki's_ body, she amended). Only the feet were visible, sticking out from behind the podium at the front of the room. You couldn't see the blood. Or the fact that he was dead, for that matter. And that's the way she wanted it to stay for the time being. She didn't want to have to experience that sadness anew each time one of the others came in and noticed him. Better to wait until they had all arrived. That way, she'd only have to tell it once.

"Um, Michiru's here," Usagi said, quickly positioning herself in Minako's line of vision.

The other girl blinked and took a step back. "Really? Is she-"

"She says she's fine, but I'd like for Ami to take a look at her just in case. She's hurt pretty bad." Usagi placed a hand upon one of Ami's shoulders. "Would you?"

Ami, whose eyes had also been searching the room, nodded briskly. "Certainly. Where is she?"

"Over here," Usagi said. She led them over to the recumbent Michiru by hand, away from Motoki's resting place.

Once Ami saw her, she broke contact and rushed over to her injured teammate, kneeling beside her on the floor. Minako followed in close pursuit. Usagi stood off to the side and watched, astounded, as Ami worked her magic – taking pulse via the wrist, checking Michiru's eyes for signs of brain trauma, chronicling the severity of her wounds… She was a consummate professional no matter the situation or the patient.

"She seems to be fine," Ami said, after completing the quick examination. "Or, well, it could have been a lot worse – let me put it that way. That being said, there's not a lot I can do to help her without the medical tools you might find at a hospital-"

"But she's not critically injured?" Haruka took hold of Ami's arm for emphasis. "You're sure of that?"

Ami nodded. "No. I mean, _yes_, I'm sure of it. _No_, her injuries are not life-threatening, though they are quite severe."

Over by the door, Usagi felt herself relax a bit. So Michiru _was_ going to make it. Good. She'd told her it wasn't as bad as it looked, but some people you just couldn't trust in those situations. Some people wanted to protect you against certain unpleasant truths. Some people were brave fighters.

Usagi sighed and waited for the others.

They returned in pairs: Rei arriving with Makoto. Setsuna and Mamoru (still wearing that blasted robe) following shortly thereafter. All safe. All still alive. After the initial greetings and exclamations of "I'm so glad you're alright" had been taken care of, the girls went flocking around Michiru. Murmuring sympathies. Taking turns holding her hands. Only Mamoru stayed by Usagi's side. Not a word was passed between them. Being together again, even after such a short separation - that was enough for now.

Standing apart from the group, Usagi watched. Everyone was huddled around the wounded Michiru, asking her if she was really, _really_ okay and if she needed anything, because if she did, the girl in question would be happy to get if for her. Even the normally distant Rei appeared to be making an effort. It was a comforting sight, everyone gathered around, expressing concern over a fallen teammate. Seeing that cemented the fact that they were a team, Sailor Soldiers or no. They were friends, bonded together by a destiny whose bonds were unbreakable. Usagi had a feeling that, even if they never regained their crystals, that even if they had lost the ability to transform forever, they would still remain close. For it wasn't the Sailor Crystal that held them together. No. It was just the thing that had _brought_ them together.

Something tickled the skin of Usagi's ankle.

She looked down to see Luna weaving in and out around her feet, her tail brushing against her legs. She looked up at her, then – her eyes silently saying: _Shouldn't you tell them?_

_Can't you do it?_ Usagi blinked in return.

But Luna's eyes said no. No, it was Usagi's duty to break the news.

So she licked her lips, gave Mamoru a pat on the hand, and cleared her throat – signaling to the others that she had something to say.

They all turned at once. Even Michiru motioned for Haruka to lift her head up so that she could see.

_Which should I start with?_ Usagi ran through the various misfortunes in her mind. _Motoki? Chaos' return? The Crystal? _There was too much bad news to choose from.

Chaos. That seemed the most pressing of matters. And so, having gained the entire room's attention, Usagi opened her mouth to speak – but snapped it shut again. What if she had imagined the whole thing? What if the voice had been an auditory hallucination, brought on by stress? She was most assuredly stressed. That was putting it mildly. But if the voice _had_ been a figment of her own imagination, there was no sense in worrying the others about it. …Right?

_(We meet again, Princess.) _

Nah. It couldn't be.

Yet Usagi had to be sure. Meekly, and totally afraid of the response, she projected a quiet thought out to the demonic skies swirling outside the school's windows: _Hello?_

She waited for a response. She waited for that voice to come breaking into her mind again, razing her own thoughts, overpowering them, invading her soul. That oh so familiar voice. She waited for a response. But heard none.

A hallucination, then. Usagi felt tingly with an absurd amount of relief. It washed over her in a cleansing wave, soaking deep into her pores. She felt about twenty pounds lighter. She could've laughed had there not been other worries to contend with. One less thing to worry about, though.

Chaos. Boy, had her mind played one doozy of a trick on her. At this, Usagi did utter a little giggle. Chaos – the worst of the worst, the baddest of the bad. No wonder her brain had summoned it up. That would've made it perfect, having big, bad Chaos arrive on the scene like some general, surveying the sights of war, looking over the damage done by his underlings. Usagi stifled a new batch of giggles with her hand. Sometimes your own mind could be your worst enemy.

Ten anxious faces were staring back at her, waiting for Usagi to bring them this latest bit of news. Usagi fanned a hand before her face, seemingly blowing away any lingering doubts on the subject of Chaos' existence. She sighed and gave one last titter. "Sorry, guys. I thought …. well, I guess the night's been getting to me, because I thought I heard-"

Perhaps it had been waiting for that moment to make its presence known. Maybe it had remained silent due to some twisted sense of humor it possessed – just waiting for the Princess to deny it. In any case, it chose that moment to speak. And when it did, the walls of the school shook. On the other side of the city, the Black Poison Crystal chimed deep and resonant. It spewed new jets of molten lava and sulfuric gases into the volatile mix above. This time, they all heard it – Usagi, the ten gathered around her (eight humans, two cats), and the students and facility huddled in the room. They heard it and knew it to be real. And not just those hunkered down inside Juuban High, but also all those unfortunate to still be living – those souls who had managed to survive Death Phantom's display of power, only to find themselves now in an even worse situation. They heard it, too. What was left of Tokyo heard it.

_Wretches of Earth! Dwellers of this conquered human village, I am Chaos! Chaos, the one who failed to become a star! Chaos, ruler of dark stars everywhere and new master of this one!! Know my name!_

Everything had taken on a fuzzy image. Usagi saw the faces of her friends swim before her – Ami, Mako-chan, Setsuna, Naru and Gurio. Shingo. Saw their faces, but couldn't equate those faces to the names that matched them. Everything was narrowing in. Details lost in hazy snow. Like an uncooperative television set, her vision was fading fast. She felt ready to faint. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. Couldn't do anything.

_I hold your lives in my hands,_ Chaos continued. _You continue to live only because it pleases me for you to do so. I could crush you all. But I am compassionate. Receive my mark and my blessings along with it. Ally yourselves to me or suffer my wrath and divine displeasure. Become subjects of the conqueror of the universe! This is your choice to make. Choose wisely. For your own sake._

And with that, the psychic connection between Chaos and the survivors broke.

One fleeting moment of quiet. And then bedlam.

They came rushing at her – at Usagi, the one person who could answer all of their questions. En masse. Like a stampeding herd of buffalo. Arms outstretched, voices high and demanding. Fingers fully extended, attempting to latch on to Usagi's clothing. Question upon question. A nonsensical roar. Everyone in the room hurling themselves at her, their eyes flashing.

Gradually the grainy haze lifted from her eyes and she saw them rushing at her, as if she were some famous pop idol and they, her ecstatic fans – hungering for just a touch of her skin. Now she could sympathize with Seiya, Yaten, and Taiki and what they'd had to go through as members of the once ultra-popular band "The Three Lights". It must've been frightening to see all those faces gazing in your direction, to hear your name being screamed to the high heavens.

Of course _they_ had heard their names being shouted in admiration. For Usagi, this was something else entirely.

"What's happening?!"

"_You_ know, don't you?!"

"WHAT was that?"

"What's going on?"

"You know something, don't you?!"

"Tell us!!"

Terrified, Usagi backed away from the clawing hands, the twisting fingers. They looked like a writing bundle of snakes.

Somebody called her name. One of her old teachers, most likely, or a school acquaintance. Nobody else could've known it. Regardless, it was soon picked up by the others in the room, who began to cry out the name, as if in chant:

"Usagi!"

"Usagi!"

"Usagi!"

The crowd pressed further on, herding Usagi and the others back against the wall. When it became clear that they had nowhere else to run too, Rei and Makoto took two brave lunges forward, bring themselves inches away from those pressing down upon them. They ordered the swarm to stop, but they did not. They demanded silence, but got none.

One student, a rail-thin boy wearing a Yomiuri Giants baseball jersey and matching hat, attempted to bypass the Rei/Makoto blockade. He managed to swipe a hand across Usagi's legs before being pushed roughly aside by Makoto. He went crashing down – hard on his posterior, his hat falling slightly askew. He swore loudly, projecting the curse at Makoto.

"You best be moving aside if you don't want a face full of fist," she suggested.

The boy swore again, softer this time, and got angrily to his feet in a dramatic exercise full of sighs and mumblings.

"Hey, what's going on?" Somebody in the back yelled.

A chubby woman wearing a tacky red-white gingham pantsuit (whom Usagi belatedly recognized as Mrs. Harrison, her English teacher) shouted an affirmative. "We have a right to know! This isn't just about you people!"

Others in the room pumped their hands into the air in righteous fury and began to advance.

That same jersey-wearing boy, spurred on by this new communal attitude of invincibility, once again tried to slink his way past Makoto. This time, all she had to do was raise a single hand to stop him in his tracks. "Last warning, man. Back. OFF." And he did, without so much as a squeak. She then lifted her eyes to the others. "Same goes for the rest of you. Give us space. I don't want to have to fight anyone, but I will if I have to. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Everyone stared back at her, speechless – their short-lived mutiny permanently quelled. Quietly, they began to disperse. Through the fingers shielding her eyes, Usagi happened upon the faces of Naru and Gurio. Both of them saw her as well. Gurio averted his eyes quickly, but Naru held Usagi in a contemptuous glare, her eyes blazing daggers, her down-turned mouth bespeaking hurt feelings. Of disappointment. Betrayal. _I thought we were friends,_ that expression said_. We used to be such good friends and now you won't even tell us what's going on? You've changed, Usagi. You've changed, and not for the better. _

Possibly sensing the mass hostility directed toward their group of ten, Rei attempted to make them understand. "You're right. You _do_ deserve to know the situation, but we need a few minutes by ourselves so that we can figure things out. Then we'll fill you in. Alright?"

Unconvinced murmurs. A few half-whispered retorts of "Sure, sure."

_I don't blame you,_ Usagi thought as she watched them shuffled back to their spots along the wall. _Heck, I've been doing this since I was 14 and I'm not even sure _I_ understand it._

"So that was Chaos we heard?' Makoto asked, turning back to Usagi and the others. "That voice in our heads? I mean, I guess we all heard it, huh?"

Yes, it had been the voice of Chaos. That bass tone, a rumbling mixture of male and female, the way it froze your brain to hear it. No question. It had been no hallucination. No trick of a stressful mind. Everyone had heard it. Usagi shuddered. How was everyone being so calm about it? Didn't they get it? Chaos. Back. Them. Without powers. It was a pretty bad situation and yet nobody seemed particularly upset. _What would you have them do?_ Her other, more reasonable half demanded. _Do you want them to break down in tears? Do you want them to collapse upon the floor in fear? They're being brave. Maybe you should take a page from their book. _Or maybe the scope of the problem just hadn't hit them yet. _She_ was scared, though. Usagi knew that much about herself.

Scared …. but not paralyzed with fear. Not the way she had been. For some reason, she felt oddly at peace with the situation. But why? What was different about her now? What had happened that allowed her this acceptance?

Mamoru.

He was with her now. She could feel him standing behind her, as unwavering as a statue carved from marble. Though they weren't touching, she could feel a certain heat radiating off from him – a protective, powerful aura that encompassed her as well and provided her with that same strength.

"But I thought Usagi destroyed Chaos," Ami said. "Two years ago. Didn't she?"

For some illogical reason, Usagi felt as though a covert insult had been hurled her way. More than a little perturbed, she looked Ami in the eye and said, "I _did_ destroy it. And I did it at the Galaxy Cauldron with the power of everyone's Crystals. Us standing here talking proves it. Remember? It was through the defeat of Chaos that you guys were reborn, but…" Usagi trailed off. Something was dawning. A forgotten detail of that fateful battle. And not even of the battle itself, but of the events that had transpired afterward. "…but Chaos' core Chaos Seed and Guardian Chaos both melted into the sea of the Cauldron."

Now it came flooding back – that little piece of information that had been nearly lost in the joyful reunion following the battle at Sagittarius Star Zero.

"They might be born again." Usagi turned slowly around to face Mamoru. She found those deep blues of his searching her, puzzled. Was this dawning on him as well? He had been there, too. "This is where stars and hopes are born. ...Guardian Cosmos said that. Two years ago. Now I remember."

Ami frowned. "What?"

"It was reborn. Just as you were. Just as we all were. I did defeat Chaos two years ago. I destroyed it, but not completely. A little part of it still existed somewhere, its essence, and it was able to come back."

Exactly six seconds of silence. Then Michiru said, with a level of strain that had nothing to do with her injuries: "Is there no hope, then? If evil can't die, what were we fighting for all those years?"

"Of course there's hope," Artemis said, trying to interject a little optimism into an otherwise bleak conversation. He arched his white back and, with a grace that defied the laws of physics, jumped up onto Minako's shoulders. "You guys are the Sailor Soldiers. Can you grasp what a privilege that is? Some cosmic somebody sensed the potential of your Star Seeds and evolved them into Sailor Crystals, thereby making you Sailor Soldiers – the guardians of the universe. That's the highest honor there is."

Setsuna exhaled. "But if a rose is just a stem, having lost the pedals long ago, does anyone consider it a rose at all?"

Artemis had no reply.

_No, that's not right. We can't be thinking this way. _Usagi held out her hands before her eyes. For the first time in her life, she looked at them – really looked at them. They were small compared to the hands of the rest of the population, but just right for her. They were a healthy peach color, complete with four fingers and a thumb. Thin veins of light blue ran underneath the skin in rivers of platelets. They were wonderful hands, useful for the demands of everyday life. But they were also the same hands that had thrown a razor-bladed tiara at enemies, slicing their accursed bodies in half – the same hands that had held multiple scepters high like beacons, while her mouth uttered the command phrase that vaporized yet other monsters into piles of sand. Such power. Such a history these hands had. And yet, Usagi considered them no more important than the hands of any other person anywhere else on the planet. _"Being a Sailor Soldier is the highest honor there is?" Maybe. But we're also the lowest of the low. We're the lowliest servants. We would give our lives for the lives of others – the rich as well as the poor. We serve no one nation; we give our allegiance not to one singular ruler, but for the welfare of our stars and their people. But even if we weren't Sailors, we would still be humans with hopes and dreams and that's a powerful position as well. It …_

_It isn't all about the Sailor Crystal. Without a human heart guiding its power, the Sailor Crystal is worth nothing._

They continued to discuss the matter - accomplishing nothing, getting nowhere.

"-bad enough when it was just Death Phantom."

"And now Chaos."

"Don't forget Hotaru. We still have to find a way to reverse whatever brainwashing spell she's under."

"If things weren't bad enough-"

"-can't transform, so what can we do?"

"Motoki's dead."

All manner of conversation came to a screeching halt. Thoughts were dropped in mid-sentence. Everyone remained frozen in place, as if they had been playing a game of "red light, green light". Time itself seemed to have stopped with the utterance of that horrible fact. Then, as the news processed its way through their ear canals and into their brains, they turned blank faces toward Usagi. The only indications that they had heard and understood were a few raised eyebrows. Then the eyes narrowed. Then they began to take steps toward her – toward Usagi, who had spoken the news that they refused to believe.

She took a step back, suddenly afraid. Those faces looking at her now were the same faces as before – the mob was back, only this time, they were her friends. Which made it scarier.

"What did you just say?" Minako was in the lead. Her blue eyes, usually alive with laughter, were now unfriendly.

Usagi took another quick backward step and ran into somebody. Somebody tall. Makoto? No, she could see her behind Ami. Who, then?

Whoever it was put their hands on her and drew her close. Mamoru. Mamoru's hands. Shielding her. "Let's just hold on a minute," he told the others. "Let's give Usako a chance to explain." 

"Motoki? Motoki the Arcade guy? _Our_ Motoki? You're saying that Motoki-"

"Yes," Usagi interrupted. She didn't think she could stand to hear the name once more. "He's over there." And she pointed in his direction. _"His" direction or "it's" direction? Does death remove that, too? At what point does a body become a corpse and no longer a person? _These were questions she had been asking herself since the murder of her parents, only a few short hours ago. But she was no wiser now than she had been then.

Following her pointing finger, the girls made their way over to the podium, Minako leading the way. When they got there, Usagi looked elsewhere. She knew what they would find. The rigid body. The blood. The blood was the worst of it. Knowing this, she did not choose to look. Instead, she counted the seconds_. One. Two. Three. Fou-_

_"MOTOKI!"_

Usagi jumped. Minako's exclamation had caught her off guard, even though she had been expecting it. But she hadn't been prepared for the emotion behind the cry, the sheer sorrow driving that name into her ears. There was no way you _could_ prepare for such a thing.

"Oh, please! Please, please, PLEASE no! Motokiiiii!!"

Worse than the name was the weeping. It came on strong at first, full of wrenching wailing and loud hacking sounds, but soon quieted into a murmur of soft, hiccupping sobs. Even Rei was grieving. Usagi recognized the sound of her crying. Even Rei, who despised all men, who thought them weak and foolish, was crying over the loss of this one.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Usa," Mamoru said.

"So am I." Usagi turned to face him. "He was a good friend."

"You've been through so much today – more than anyone should ever have to experience."

Nodding, she put hands behind his neck and lowered his face to hers. His lips beckoned her. They were so close. For an instant, Usagi was tempted toward them but then remembered the vow they had made. The pact made up on the roof of this very building. No kissing. Not until the battle had been won and the enemy defeated. Usagi sighed. What a cruel incentive.

He tapped her. "Hey."

"Hmm?" She glanced up. He was looking at something, his gaze focused and concerned. She followed his eyes to see Makoto, rooted to the floor, her body stiff, her hands clenched at her side. She hadn't ventured to the podium with the others. Instead, she remained where she'd stood before. "Mako-chan?" Usagi probed. "You alright?"

No, she wasn't. In no shape or form was she all right. It didn't take an IQ of 300 to figure that one out. All you had to do was look at her stiff body language to know that.

Without turning, Makoto nodded. One quick downward thrust of the head. "Yes. I'm fine." The words came out stoic, lacking inflection.

"You sure? You don't want to say goodbye or anything?"

Makoto's head did not move, but her eyes did. Usagi saw them as they rolled to the edges of their sockets. They looked like balls of green glass. "I'm fine. I don't want to say goodbye, I don't even want to see him. What good would it do me? He can't hear me. He's dead, as you so eloquently put it. I'm fine."

"Well, _I'm_ not."

It was Minako. She came striding out from behind the podium, having exchanged her sorrow for rage. Blood dripped from her hands. It also streaked her face, under her eyes where she had wiped away tears. She came right up to Usagi and said, "I'm not okay. I, for one, have had enough. I'm not going to let anyone else die. It's time we do something." She spun on her heel like a trained trooper, sending her blonde hair lashing out. She headed for the door.

"Don't be rash!" Artemis exclaimed behind her. He had hopped down off Minako and was now back on the floor, next to Luna. "What do you think you'd accomplish by getting yourself killed? And that's what's going to happen if you just run out all mad like this. You're going to get yourself killed and it would've been for nothing."

Ami joined in, siding with Artemis. "He's right! We need a plan!"

_"The time for planning is over!" _Minako screamed suddenly.

Startled, Ami jumped back a space.

"Don't you people get it? Every second we waste with meaningless conversation, that …. that _thing_ out there-" here she gestured to the window, at the red flaming sky. "- it gets closer to wining! We've wasted enough time. It's time to act."

Luna shook her head. "But, Minako, think about-"

"No," the girl said. "I'm leaving. I'm going to stand against Chaos. By myself, if need be. Come with me or don't. I really don't care at this point." And she continued on, her head held high, her body prepared for whatever the upcoming heroic stand might bring.

They never ceased to amaze her – these displays of bravery being acted out by her friends. By mere teenage girls. It just proved Usagi's theory that bravery and strength existed independently from age, sex, social position, education, or anything else. That _real_ courage was a product of the soul and was thus accessible by anyone. And it was because of that that Usagi fell in behind Minako. She would fight. Even if it was pointless, even if they were doomed from the start. It didn't matter.

One by one, the others followed suit – the former inners, the outers, Mamoru and the cats. Each of them followed Minako's lead. Single-file, they headed for the door. They did not speak amongst themselves. They were preparing for the stand.

"Guys. Wait a second."

Everyone stopped. Usagi turned back to look at Haruka. She and Setsuna were hauling the semi-conscious Michiru along, supporting her by the arms. Michiru's head lolled and rolled bonelessly.

"Why don't you guys stay here?" Usagi suggested. "It's going to be a long walk and I don't think-"

Haruka interrupted. "No, it's not that." She jerked her chin toward a window. "They're coming."

Minako pushed her way back from the front of the line. "Who?"

"Droids. A platoon of them." Setsuna said.

Droids. Usagi knew their reason for their arrival.

It was time to administer the mark.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two (part I)

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. No date given:

_Well, well, well. Here we are again. It's been a long time. To be honest, I had no idea how long until I stumbled across this again while cleaning out my room. How time flies when you're combating a deep depression. I've been re-reading some of my old entries and for the past half hour, I've just been sitting here musing over it all. It's like somebody else wrote this thing. An innocent, naïve somebody. I can't relate anymore to what I've written. I have no friends. Chibiusa was my only friend and when she left, she took a big chunk of me with her. _

_Geez. That sounded so melodramatic. But it's true. Ever since she left, I feel as though I've been operating in a fog. I can't concentrate anymore. My grades at school are slipping. I can't really engage anymore with Haruka or Michiru or Setsuna. I miss her so much. Nine nights out of ten, I cry myself to sleep thinking about her. I miss her. I wish she'd come back. But I know she can't. She would it she could. I know that, so why am I so mad? I should be "out there" making new friends instead of wallowing in my self-pity but frankly; I don't feel like making the effort._

_Michiru's calling me for dinner. Got to go. I don't even feel like walking downstairs to eat. Maybe I need to see a doctor or something. Or not. Maybe I should just hang myself in the attic. Ha ha ha. ….Okay, that was supposed to be a joke, so why aren't I laughing? _

_Okay, Michiru's getting impatient. See you. Oh, and one final word before I go: It's not good to rely so much on any one person. _

…

The line dissolved. Those who had been in it flocked to the window and crowded around it like bargain-hungry shoppers who had happened upon a particularly good deal whilst window-shopping. Trapped in the back of the group, and due in no small part to her tiny five foot, one-inch frame, Usagi could make out nothing but a mountain range of shoulders and heads. She jumped. She stood on her tiptoes. But to no avail.

Finally she resorted to tugging on Mamoru's robe sleeve. "How many?"

"Can't be sure," he said. He craned his neck for a better view. "They're too far away to count. But there's a lot of them."

"Are they close?" Usagi jumped again, but with the same results as last time.

"Pretty close. They've just turned on to the school's road. I guess we have about…." Mamoru wedged his tongue into his cheek and preformed a quick calculation. "….three minutes before they reach the front doors."

Up near the front, sandwiched between the window glass and the other eight forward-pressing bodies, an alarmed Ami gave a gasp. "What are we going to do?"

"We fight!" Minako faced the others. Her eyes were sparkling blue orbs of fire. Her mouth was pulled back in what could only be described as an animalistic sneer. In some twisted way, she seemed to be having fun. She looked feral in the low light – ready to pounce and tear out the throat of anyone who dared question her leadership decisions.

_It's Motoki,_ Usagi realized. _His death pushed her over the edge. She's loosing it_.

But what about Makoto? How was she doing? She had seemed so vulnerable before. Usagi turned to her now.

Where Motoki's death had spurred Minako into action, it seemed to have had the opposite affect on Makoto, who stood along the sidelines of the group, her body erect, yet limp. Her eyes were not cast toward the outside like the others, nor were they focused on any one thing in particular. They were almost transparent-like, dull green windows into the soul. And the soul peering out from those windows was dead. She had lost all motivation. Her strength had gone with Motoki.

_She loved him. That's what she told me._ Usagi's mouth twitched at the memory. She wanted to run over to her friend, then - to wrap her up in her arms and together they would cry. Openly. Without shame. Like sisters. But she looked so fragile. Like a sculpture made of ash. One mere touch to the elbow looked enough to send her crumbling to the floor.

Movement at the window forced Usagi to tear her eyes off the zombie Makoto. "There are so many," Ami said. She turned from the approaching droid army and regarded the others. "What are we going to do?"

Exasperated, Minako repeated her earlier battle cry. "We fight! That's what we were trained to do and that's what we're going to do. Fight!" She pumped a fist in the air for emphasis.

"Well, that's fine for us, but what about them?"

Minako blinked, her ambition for a glorious battle thrown temporarily off-kilter. "Them who?"

"_Them_," Ami replied and pointed. Usagi followed her finger. It was directed toward the other people in the room, the milling herd of students and teachers, those who had gathered at the school to rehearse for graduation day – a day that now seemed impossibly distant, whose coming was completely uncertain. There were many faces in the crowd Usagi recognized. Faces of friends, of favorite teachers, of hated taskmasters, the face of a brother. Shingo. Naru. Gurio. No, they couldn't fight here. Sacrificing their lives was something Usagi and the others had resolved themselves to if need be, but they would not place innocent people in danger. Somebody might get hurt. Or worse yet, if given the opportunity, someone might take the mark. Usagi was not certain of the implications associated with the taking of Chaos' mark, but she knew it would be bad. Chaos did not bless. It dispensed death and misery. It used people.

Minako's fist unfurled into a simple hand. She took a moment to count the people packed together. "We have to get them out of here. Get them out of the school." She began to move.

"What about the others scattered throughout the building?" Ami asked, taking a hold of Minako's arm.

Others? There were others? That could be a problem. A very big problem. Time was pressed enough already. It would take too long to search the entire school room by room. How long did they have before the droids arrived? Three minutes? Wasn't that what Mamoru had said? Yes, and that had been two minutes ago. It was too short a time frame. They couldn't possibly save everyone. Too many people to save, too little time.

But they had to at least try.

"You guys go ahead and search the school for anybody else," Usagi said. "Mako-chan and I will take care of this room." She gave Makoto a thumbs-up. "Right?"

Makoto grunted something that could've been taken as an affirmative.

"Alright, we have a plan, people! Let's hop to it!" Minako slapped her hands together and hurtled out through the doorway, Artemis and Luna hot on her heels.

One by one, they left. They had to have been nervous but they didn't let it show through on their faces. Usagi saw only strength and courage there. She smiled as she watched them go. She felt like a proud mother seeing her babies off to their first day of school. Then it was Mamoru's turn to depart. For a few cherished seconds, both he and Usagi regarded each other quietly from a distance. Then he crossed over to her, taking her into his arms and patting her on the head. No kisses. He wished her good luck and she told him that he had better hurry, that they didn't have much time to waste, and then he was gone. Again. Separated for the hundredth time, it felt like.

Enough. There was no time to stand around mourning for departed loves. Indecisiveness was a luxury nobody could afford at the moment. "Okay." Usagi cleared her throat. "Excuse me, can I have everyone's attention? Everyone's attention, please!"

Nobody looked up. Nobody moved. Not one person displayed any indication at all that they were even aware of her presence. They just continued to sit, staring blankly ahead, a few of them attempting half-hearted conversation with the persons sitting to their left and right. They didn't know what Usagi knew – that their time was limited, that any minute now, droids were going to come crashing in through the doors and the windows and kill-

"Excuse me! Can I _please_ have your attention?! Everyone, _please_!"

This time, a few curious heads turned their faces toward her but quickly looked away, uninterested in whatever she had to sell.

Time. The time!

She swore inwardly. This was taking too long. They didn't want to listen to her. They were still mad at her for not explaining things to them earlier. And now, like little children, they were ignoring her because of that perceived wrong.

Time! Time!

_I know!_ Her eyes darted to the door. It was open and she could see the corridor beyond. Empty. For now. Usagi put a hand to her cheek. It felt hot. Her bladder felt full. She needed to go to the bathroom. _They must've reached the gate by now,_ she thought. _Probably already in the school. _But what could be done about it? Time was slipping away, like water through an open hand. She needed help.

She needed Makoto.

"Mako-chan? Mako-chan?" Usagi called the name of the girl standing next to her and got no response. She reached out a hand but drew it back. A sculpture of ash, ready to crumble… Did she dare?

Screw it.

The hand wrapped itself around Makoto's elbow. Usagi gave a little squeeze. Makoto's head jerked slightly. A good sign. "Mako-chan, I need you, okay? I can't help these people by myself."

"Mmh," Makoto's head dipped down in a drunken nod. She took a step forward. Hesitated. Took another, moving much too slow to be of much help.

The hand wrapped around her elbow tightened. Usagi spun her around in a fast twirling movement, as if the two girls were partners in a dance. "Listen to me, Mako-chan. I know you're upset about Motoki. I am, too. But I need your help here." Usagi's eyes held Makoto in a firm blue stare. They transcended the darkness of depression. Their light filtered through the dusty windows that were Makoto's own eyes. Someone was speaking to her. "If you don't help me, more people are going to die."

The dull look written upon Makoto's face melted away. She blinked five times in succession and shook her head harshly, forcing some blood back to the brain. Then she matched Usagi's stare with her own – that classic look so clearly Makoto, the one that said: _Yeah, I can take it. Throw your worst at me. I'm gonna eat you up and ask for seconds. Pansy. _

"And we can't have that."

Usagi's hand relaxed. "No, we most certainly can't. Why don't you take the back of the room and I'll take the side and we'll see if we can't herd 'em out the door?"

"Sounds like a plan."

So they assumed their positions, one at the back of the crowd and one at the side. At first Usagi, not wanted to panic the already highly-strung group, attempted a calm evacuation approach – gently taking people by the hands, patiently explaining to them that they really had to be going, like _now_. The process was agonizingly slow. _Maybe I should just lay it all on the line and tell them_, she mused as she softly padded amongst the multitude. _-tell them there's a droid army coming this way; one for every person here, most likely, and if they want to have any chance at all of surviving this night, they had best follow me._ That _would get 'em moving. _And it would. But at what cost? If there was a panic, there could be …. would be injuries. They would run for the door all at once. Somebody would fall. They always did. Then they would be trampled to death. And it would be her fault.

Across the room, however, Makoto was not wasting time with questions of safety and orderly evac procedures. She was yelling. She was pushing. She was grabbing arms and jerking people up like nobody's business, pointing them in the direction of the door. In short, she was getting the job done. Inspired, Usagi decided to follow her lead. Enough with Miss Nice Gal.

She selected a body at random, latching onto an arm. "Come on, let's go!" Hmm. That hadn't sounded particularly authoritative. She tried again, this time dropping the "let's". "Come on, move it!"

The red curtain of hair belonging to the woman standing before her went flying. A face appeared. Usagi instantly placed the woman's age at around 25. Mid to late twenties, anyway. Not too much older than herself. Vibrant green eyes complimented the red locks. A splatter of faint freckles played across the bridge of her nose. Usagi didn't recognize the face. She didn't seem to be a teacher and was way too old to be mistaken for a high school senior. Probably a straggler off the street, then – somebody who'd ran to the school seeking shelter.

Quickly loosing patience with the sluggish crowd, Usagi placed a hand on the small of the woman's back and began pushing her toward the door. "Walk a little bit faster, okay?" By now, and due in no small part to Makoto's taking charge, the room was slowly emptying. Confused faces marched past, completely ignorant, not understanding. But that was fine. At least they were moving.

"Wait." The red-haired green-eyed woman slammed on the brakes. She turned her head halfway around, attempting to look at Usagi. "Wait! I don't-"

"Just try and stay clam, ma'am. Everything's going to be fine. Just follow the others." Usagi applied more pressure to the woman's back.

Now she attempted to turn around. She resisted the hand at her back. Beneath her touch and through the fabric of her shirt, Usagi could feel muscles contracting. "Wait a second! I can't go without-"

"Keep moving! Keep moving!" Makoto appeared at the woman's side. She took an arm. She motioned for Usagi to do the same. Together they dragged the woman out of the classroom, heels dragging. She was screaming something but it was too chaotic in the hallway to make out actual words. It was a difficult trip with her in tow, what with her constant screeching and jerking body. At one point she managed to wrench her arm out of Usagi's grip. One extremity free, she then pivoted on her heel and tried to make a dash back for the classroom. But she had forgotten Makoto, who still had hold of the other. The girl yanked the madwoman back and then secured her arms behind her. She took hold of both wrists in one hand.

"You're not listening to me! I need to – Wait a second!! I need to go back! Just for a second!"

_Probably left her purse behind. _Usagi couldn't help but giggle. Some things never changed. Even in this environment of Chaos and destruction, of death and confusion, the biggest worry on some people's minds, apparently, were their credit cards. _Hate to break it to ya, but after this night, I doubt there'll even be a bank of Japan._

Funneled into a tight stream by the hallway, the sea of humanity continued forward. A nervous energy hissed in the air above the bouncing heads. They knew. Maybe not the specifics or the precariousness of their situation, but they had picked up on a certain degree of desperateness from Makoto and Usagi. You could see it in their eyes. They continued to move forward, leaving the classroom behind, but it was a hesitant kind of movement. For all they knew, they were performing a death march. What it really amounted to was, they were leaving a dangerous location for the _hope_ of safety someplace else. That bothered Usagi as well. Already, she had tromped through much of the city, moving from place to place propelled by danger, and finding new danger at every turn – from the school, to her house, to the streets, then back to the school, then back to the streets, then to the casino, then _back_ to the school again. For the past however many hours, they'd been doing nothing more than running around in circles. Not a thing had been accomplished. They had succeeded in doing nothing but making things worse.

Where did they have left to run? Where were they running to now? Was there even a point in trying to escape, knowing that the entire city was a minefield – that no place was safe?

From deep within the school came the sound of glass shattering.

They had arrived.

Makoto had heard it, too. "Keep moving! Faster!"

The redheaded woman tussled against her warden. "Lemme go! I've gotta get-"

"Shuttup!" Makoto spat. She whistled at Usagi. "They're inside."

"I know."

Droids hot on their trail, the two girls maneuvered their group through the school's hallways, careful not to look back. They were lucky that the school had been constructed the way it was. For the most part, it had a very simplistic design. Two buildings made up the entirety of the campus; the main structure stood five stories and housed most of the classrooms. An open-air walkway connected the gymnasium to the rest. Inside, the passageways were white walls and polished white floors arranged in a straightforward square design. No twisting corridors, no hidden rooms off the beaten path. It made the rescue mission much easier.

The only worry was the floor count. It was going to be difficult sweeping all five levels for survivors.

_Well, speak of the devil. _

As the group passed by one of the school's four staircases, Rei and Ami came clacking down it, a small gaggle of students trailing behind. This group merged with the other and together, everyone made for the back exit. Thick black fire doors loomed just ahead, beyond which lay the football field. Makoto pushed her way through the crowd of pressing bodies and flung them both wide open, revealing the boiling sky in all its frightful glory. That was the first thing Usagi saw - not Mamoru or Haruka or the other stragglers they had rescued leaning up against the far-off bleachers, but the sky. Seeing it now, actually standing underneath the swirling mass of fire and smoke made it seem more real somehow. She wasn't looking at it through a window. There wasn't a roof over her head acting as a barrier between it and her. She was out in the open now. Directly underneath the watchful eye of Chaos.

She felt terribly exposed.

And judging by the reactions of those around her so did everyone else. That nervous quiet of the hallway shattered with a scream. The tight knot of survivors unraveled. Some headed for the bleachers while others merely stood in place, pointing unbelievingly at the sky above, hands over mouths.

It looked something like a sunset, Usagi concluded. Those rare sunsets where the sun bleeds the entire sky a deep shocking red, where the clouds look like woven gold. The kind where you have to stop in your tracks and admire it, no matter where you are or what you're doing.

Except this wasn't something to be admired. It was something to be feared, to run away from. It wasn't a sunset at all; it was the living embodiment of an ancient, timeless, perhaps even eternal, evil.

"Follow the bird! Follow the bird!" Rei's voice, barely perceptible over the sudden commotion that had sprung up.

"Follow the bird, everyone! The bird!" parroted Usagi, unsure what she was even talking about. Then she happened to look up and saw Deimos flying high overhead, fluttering small and black against vast redness. It circled above, dipping down once or twice, squawking to garner attention. Then it would spring back up like a fighter jet performing an astounding aerial feat of acrobatic skill. It flew slightly ahead of the crowd, leading them someplace. Perhaps it had spotted a safe hideaway somewhere close by.

Against her better judgment, Usagi turned to look back at the school. She saw the two buildings of Juuban Senior High standing great and dark against a grove of evergreens, every window black, every door tightly shut. Still intact for the most part, and yet it looked … wrong somehow. Something was missing from the picture. It took her only a moment to place it: the scene lacked activity. Usually, the campus was a hubbub of comings and goings – a parade of cars and bicycles flowing through the main gates, students milling about, talking with friends, sweethearts kissing in the parking lot, stealing precious seconds before the bell. Now the place was a dead relic. It looked like an abandoned fortress left for the enemy to pillage and plunder. It was empty. Devoid of life and motion.

Check that. It _would've_ been devoid of those things except for the woman streaking across the teacher's parking lot on Usagi's right. She saw her first as a quick flash of movement out of the corner of her eyes. Then as she focused in on the person, she noticed two things. Number one, whoever it was was running in the wrong direction, back toward the school. And number two, the woman had red hair.

"Mako-chan!" Usagi cried out the name and instantly Makoto was at her side. She had to do nothing but point at the racing figure and they were off in a flash. They both knew.

Running as fast as their legs could carry them, they managed to catch up with the woman just as she had opened the fire doors and was preparing to disappear back inside the building. Makoto seized an arm right as the door was closing. _"That's the wrong way, ma'am!" _she growled, the annoyance hotly evident in her tone.

"But Isamu!" the woman protested. "He's still in there!"

Both Usagi and Makoto exchanged looks. "What … did you say?" Makoto asked.

"Isamu! My son!" The woman threw a hand at the school. Hysteria tugged at her features, making them harsh. The freckles across her nose were now lost in a red rash. With this expression of madness pulling at her face and in this light, Usagi couldn't believe she had ever thought her to be in her mid-twenties. She looked 40 now. Fifty, even.

"He's still inside the school?!" Makoto gave Usagi an _oh, crap_ look.

"Only two years old!" the mother continued, hearing nothing, lost in her own world of panic and darkness. "That's what I was trying to tell you!! Oh, _Gooooodd_. Let me go! He's in there! Please!" She struggled against Makoto's hands.

Dread traced a cold finger up Usagi's spine. She peered into the gloomy blackness beyond the fire doors. That finger of dread had reached the base of her skull and was now wrecking havoc on her mind. She felt sick. The open doors looked like the entrance to a cave, like the dark lair of a dragon or some other fairytale beast.

And in the mad rush to escape the dragon's stronghold, a child … a baby had been left behind.

_We practically forced her outside,_ Usagi thought, casting a quick penitent glance at the still-wailing mother. _Well actually, we_ did _force her outside. It wasn't a forgotten purse she'd been carrying on about, but her _child. _If we would've known, I'm sure we would have helped her look. We would've understood and …. and helped …. her. Right?_

Another part of her mind answered. _Well of course you would've. You and Mako-Chan both. But it's really too late to do anything about it now, so- _

The hell it was.

Before anyone knew it, before Usagi herself was even sure what she was doing, she had breached the open mouth of the cave and was running down the art hallway. Makoto, still framed in the doorway, yelled after her, crying out for her to stop. The mother, now on her hands and knees next to Makoto, wailed for her Isamu. Her precious Isamu.

"I'll find him, but don't let her follow!" Usagi instructed as she rounded a corner. It wouldn't do for the mother to wonder in and become lost. Then she'd have two people to rescue instead of one.

Makoto shouted out another plea for her to come back but Usagi ignored it.

This was a test. It dawned on her quite suddenly, this knowledge. Another test in a long and grueling series – this one designed to test her courage and compassion. Indeed, the more she thought about it the more she came to realize this entire nightmare she found herself trapped in could be viewed as a trial of sorts. Each hurdle, each new crisis was an evaluation of character. This was a test. The hardest one she would ever have to take in her life, its ramifications more serious than any final exam she had labored under in the past. If, and only if she passed the test, if she came out this night a better, stronger person could she call herself a true hero.

_But I'm just a girl,_ she thought, suddenly unsure. _Especially now that I can't transform. What business do I have even being here? I'm just a teenager. A teenage girl who still sleeps with stuffed animals and cries during pillow fights - hardly your typical action hero._

A rare path divergence up ahead. Right or left? Usagi chose left on a whim.

_That doesn't matter,_ a soft voice spoke up_. Age, wealth, physical strength – none of that makes any difference at all when choosing to do the right thing, does it? No. A hero's strength is judged by the character of her heart, not the circumference of her muscles. _

With this comforting piece of truth powering her strides, she plunged deeper into the pit.

Bulletin boards sporting old announcements whizzed by, urging all current seniors to stop by the main office for graduation supplies. Every so often a water fountain would appear at regular intervals, breaking up the monotony of the white walls rushing past. So dark. So quiet. So empty. But no, that wasn't quite right. They had arrived. They had breached the main gates and were now inside. Somewhere. Lurking. And though Usagi had no idea just where the droids were on the premises, her mind filled in the details. Like a swarming pestilence, they had seeped into the building – wriggling their way between the bricks and mortar. They had likely already swept through the principal's office, which lay just to the left of the main entrance. In a vision, she saw the sand robots rifling through papers, searching every nook and cranny for survivors, talking amongst themselves in that weird screeching language of theirs.

Footfalls against the tile floor, Usagi's quick raspy breathing – the only sounds at all. It was so quiet. Had they already come and gone, then? Was it too late? Usagi hoped not. She continued on, making sure to check every room she passed by. But oh, it was taking so long. What was the kid's name again? Ichiro? Isao?

Isamu.

Dare she speak it out loud? Dare she draw attention to herself?

_Keep a strong heart, girl._

"Isamu?" The name came out weak and shaky, barely more than a sigh. She tried again, louder this time. "Isamu!"

Nothing.

Arms pumping, legs galloping, Usagi rounded a corner and almost plowed into a Pepsi vending machine. She gasped and skidded to a stop. For several seconds she stood in place, taking in the multiple beverage choices as if hypnotized. A vertical line of buttons glowed softly in the otherwise dark corridor. You could choose between classic Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Sierra Mist, Grape Tropicana or diet versions of the previously mentioned if that was your preference. Each button cast a warm inviting light. Green arrows blinked on and off around the coin and bill slots, making sure you knew where to stuff your hard earned money.

"Isamu." Usagi continued to stare at the vending machine. What was so special about that red, white and blue globe? It was just a vending machine, for crying out loud – the same one she had passed by every day for the past three years. She managed to tear her eyes away with some effort. "Isamu? Can you hear me, sweetie? Your mom's really worried."

A noise. A soft giggle coming from one of the rooms just ahead.

Usagi pushed off from the machine. "Isamu? Isamu!" There were four classrooms along this hallway. She poked her head into the first. Nobody there. "Isamu!" Now the second. Still empty.

Another giggle. She followed the sound, bypassing classroom number three and heading directly for four. "Isa-"

There was no reason to call the name again. She'd found him. He was sitting in the middle of the room cross-legged, his back to the door. Even without seeing his face, Usagi knew at once this was the boy she'd been looking for. His hair, a brighter shade of red than his mother's, more orange than anything, gave it away. He seemed unaware of Usagi's gaze upon his back. He kept his own focus on the ground, laughing earnestly every so often. He appeared to be playing a game of some kind. Jacks, perhaps?

More noises. Only not giggling this time. Footsteps out in the hall.

Usagi spun her head back and saw elongated shadows playing across the wall closest to her. They were humanoid in appearance.

Quickly, without sparing a moment to fret, Usagi bounded into the classroom. She scooped the child up into her arms. Isamu gave a startled snort of surprise but did not cry out. She turned back for the door and in the process saw Motoki's feet peeking out from behind the lectern at the front of the room.

_Back to where we started from,_ Usagi thought.

The shadows were now inching toward the foot of the door. Three heads teetering left and right. Usagi chewed her bottom lip anxiously. Could she make it in time? Probably not. If it had been just her, maybe but she had the child to think about. The windows, then? Could she throw a chair or something out one of the windows and escape that way?

But the flying glass…. And it would take time to find a chair and put the kid down and throw the chair and-

_Just decide! Quick!! _

The door.

Usagi adjusted an arm for Isamu's weight, placed his head in between her neck and shoulder and made a dash for the doorway. The child bobbed loosely on her hip but did not cry. Not yet, anyway. "It'll be alright," she whispered. "You're gonna see your mom again real soon, okay?"

Then, preparing herself for whatever she was going to find out in the hall, she stepped over the threshold.

Three droids stared back at her. Their faces were smooth as glass, lacking the typical human features, but they saw her just the same. It registered somewhere in their sandy brains. They were dressed rather comically. Had the danger been less palpable, Usagi felt sure that she would've laughed. The two in the back had on matching stirrup pants (one in purple, one in blue) coupled with gigantic men's tees. The one in the middle looked like Farmer John, dressed in bib overalls and a red and white checkered shirt. They looked silly, ridiculous even. But they were not to be underestimated. They were weapons, pure and simple. More dangerous, more unpredictable than guns or bombs or anything else.

Farmer John held out a hand. _It wants me to take the mark._ Usagi looked at it. She nestled Isamu closer. She gulped. She shook her head, taking a step back.

The hand dropped to the droid's side. Its face began to change, the sand swirling around…

Usagi turned and fled. She had gotten three steps down the hall when she was forced to a stop. The Pepsi machine was blocking her path. At this point, several things became clear to her in rapid succession. First, the thing was silent. No humming, no abrupt clanking noises as it refrigerated the drinks contained within. Second, the machine appeared to be in perfect working order, lighted buttons and all – which was odd considering the thing wasn't plugged in to a jack and that even if it had been, power was out across the city anyway. The third thing Usagi came to realize was that there had never been a vending machine in this hall. She knew this because she had taken Geometry in this area last semester, three doors down on the right, and had never once seen a Pepsi machine or she would've utilized it at some point. And lastly, this was no vending machine.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Usagi dashed onward. She made it past the soda dispenser just as the top blew off in a spray of sand. Pellets of it struck the flesh of her neck, arms, and legs. Bits of it flew up her nose. The hallway ahead vanished momentarily in a veil of swirling whiteness. A rush of grainy wind slammed against her back, propelling her forward. Isamu screamed, the sound of his cry sharp as a dagger against her ear.

Sand tumbled in waves around her feet as she ran, making it harder and harder to move at all. _Just put one foot in front of the other! Up, down, up down. It isn't that difficult! _Only it was. It was like trying to run across a river of molasses.

Behind her, the three droids had abandoned their humanoid figures and were now no more than seething vortexes of twisting sand, rising higher and higher – toward the ceiling. They seemed to be condensing. Coalescing. Merging into one giant creature. But Usagi saw none of this. For once she kept her eyes straight. She continued to run. The baby at her side continued to scream. _He_ saw what was going on.

Right turn, left turn, straight ahead. Directions back to safety, running through her head like a nursery rhyme. It suddenly seemed a long way back. Suddenly, the simple no-nonsense layout of the school seemed terribly complex.

A flash of movement to the left. A lashing tentacle topped with a jagged edge of bone darted out like a snake's tongue next to Usagi's shoulder, missing Isamu by an inch. The terrified boy wailed even louder and wrapped his chubby arms tight around his protector's neck, nearly strangling Usagi in the bargain.

She took the next turn a little too sharply and went skidding around the curve like an inexperienced roller-rinker. Isamu screamed. Another tentacle sliced the air above her head, sweeping around in a graceful C-shaped arch before impaling itself in the wall. Usagi charged awkwardly forward, making sure to keep her head low and her legs driving forward. As she made the turn, she happened to catch a quick glimpse of the hallway she was leaving behind. It was only a short peek, no more than a half-second glance, but what she saw coming after them motivated her legs to moving in a way that she could never do.

She saw a massive body gleaming in golden scales. She saw three heads on elongated necks, snapping. Two bat-like wings protruded from its back, sweeping across the white walls, knocking flyers to the floor. It looked exactly like that King Ghidora monster from those old Godzilla movies that had so terrified her as a child. Oh how Shingo had loved those movies, especially _Godzilla vs. King Ghidora_. How he had laughed watching the golden beast destroy Japan with its atom-breath and how Usagi had screamed for him to change the channel while hiding behind a protective pillow.

And now here it was, 10 years later, chasing her down the deserted hallways of her high school. Could it be mere coincidence that the droids had chosen this form – this shape that had been the causation of so many a sleepless night? Usagi thought not. With Death Phantom, nothing was coincidence.

Fluke or no, there it was, chasing both her and the baby in her arms. And it was growing.

The things that happened next only registered in Usagi's mind as disjointed occurrences, perhaps as a coping mechanism of sorts. A crashing noise. The heavy flap, flap, flap of monster wings. The ceiling collapsing, spewing foamy pink insulation like the innards of a gutted animal. Light fixtures toppling to the ground and busting apart in explosions of glass and metal. Isamu screaming. The creature gaining. Isamu screaming. Then his cry becoming lost amid other sounds. The sounds of demolition.

Up ahead, the fire-doors. Up ahead, safety. Could she make it?

Running, running. Running straight ahead, eyes focused on the finishing line.

Something slicing into her calf. Momentary pain. A brief stumble. The doors opening ahead, as if by magic. Three figures standing there. A shower of glass sprinkling her neck. Blood dripping from the wounds. The figures motioning for her to hurry. One more step…

Her, dashing through the doorway just as the second story comes crashing down into the first, and the third, fourth and fifth floors along with it. Hungry hands grasping for the baby. A name repeated over and over. "Isamu! Isamu!" The baby gone. Mamoru and Makoto pulling her to safety. Mamoru scooping her into his arms and running. A quick look back. A quick assessment of the situation.

The school, completely destroyed. The baby, safe in the arms of its mother.

Another test passed.

- - - - continued in Chapter Twenty-Two (part II)


	23. Chapter 22 part II

- - - concluded from Chapter Twenty-Two (part I)

Chapter Twenty-Two (part II)

It occurred to Unazuki Furuhata, a little while after the fact, that maybe she'd been a little too hasty in storming out of the school and abandoning all safety in the process. This awareness struck while she was walking down the street. She had been crying ever since her less than graceful departure from the school, and then, suddenly, the tears ceased and her mind cleared. Just like that. And it was then that she realized she had no idea where she was or where she was going. It also dawned on her that she was alone - totally alone, walking aimlessly down these dark streets of crumbling cement.

_Smooth, Unazuki. Silky smooth. You've really dug yourself into a hole. You realize that, don't you? Why'd you have to leave the school for, anyway?_

She had no answer for that. She had just felt so …. betrayed? Was that the right word? Close enough. That word seemed to sum up all the complex emotions running through her tired ol' brain pretty well. Fear, sadness, outrage, jealousy, heartbreak …. But standing head and shoulders above all these, betrayal.

Usagi Tsukino was Sailor Moon.

A burp of half laughter, half surprise wiggled its way from between Unazuki's lips. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. Still, because it _was_ so crazy, so random, so out of left field, it couldn't be anything _but_ true. Who would've thought up such an insane lie? Usagi Tsukino, Sailor Moon. Still standing there in the middle of the street, Unazuki tried to reconcile the two images – that of flopsy bopsy low-wattage Usagi with the blurry photographs of Sailor Moon sometimes featured in the newspapers or on TV. She supposed the two could fit together. Now that she knew the truth of the matter, she guessed Usagi did look a little like Sailor Moon. She wondered why she'd never noticed it before.

She had been a regular at the Fruit Parlor, Usagi. Unazuki had served her frequently, bringing her milkshake after milkshake. It had eventually gotten to the point where she didn't even have to vocalize her order – upon entering, Usagi would smile and Unazuki would wink back and disappear into the kitchen, returning moments later with-

"An extra large orange soda with a vanilla float on the side, and a chocolate milkshake, and a banana sundae with heavy syrup and a cherry on the top." Unazuki was helpless against the chuckle that escaped from her. Even now she remembered the order.

_And she was Sailor Moon all that time! She was Sailor Moon and never told me._ Unazuki's eyes narrowed. _Wow. I was serving Sailor Moon root beer and didn't even know it. Whoopee. I should've asked for an autograph. _Then, on the heels of that thought: _I went to school with Rei. She's one of them, too, I know it. She was in my Classic Literature class last semester. Sat right beside me. And never told me. _And on the heels of _that_: _I wonder if Motoki knew?_

Thinking about him brought the tears again. Great. Just what she needed. Unazuki clenched her teeth against the oncoming sobs and tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. Crying would do no good. It wouldn't change things. …But Motoki was dead, along with her parents, most likely. What could she do _but_ cry? What would any other person do in the same circumstances? Now she was really and truly alone. No brother, no parents.

_No friends. _Yes,that too. Not after her little episode back at the school. Usagi and them probably hated her now. She couldn't blame them if they. How she regretted that now. She wished she could just go back and apologize and then maybe everything would be okay again. Or marginally okay again. How she hated being alone.

Just then, through, through her wavy watery vision, she saw six figures crest over the horizon line. They were coming directly at her. She couldn't make out any details (they were too far away) but figured them to all be adults based upon their height. Unazuki blinked several times, clearing her eyes, and was surprised to see the six people still walking toward her. Throwing up her hands, she stepped out into the middle of the street. She started yelling – not words, just sounds. She wanted to be noticed. She wanted to be with people now, no matter if they were strangers. She needed that comfort.

As the six moved closer, she could make out new details. They all seemed to be the same height and were attired in similar fashions – namely, blue jeans and ratty t-shirts. Moving her eyes downward, Unazuki noticed none of them were wearing any shoes. Just socks. Odd. And then, sweeping her gaze upward, she came to the startling realization that shoes weren't the only things missing. They had no faces. None of them. Just blank white ovals – hairless, featureless, lacking eyes and nose and lips and ears. And they were coming for her.

It took her a minute to fully comprehend the situation and when she did, it hit her like a ton of bricks right in the gut. _Those creatures! _Her heart racing, her mind going a thousand different directions at once, Unazuki preformed a kind of hop-skip jump backwards. Had they seen her yet? Could she still make a safe escape? And if that was possible, could she run fast enough?

She turned from the six only to come face to face with five more. Eleven now, six behind and five before her, all advancing relentlessly forward. Suddenly they were everywhere, not just the eleven but dozens of them. They came pouring out onto the street from their hiding spots like vultures having spotted a crippled animal. In due time they had formed a tight circle around Unazuki, a circle that was slowly but surely closing in. Her frightened eyes jumped from face to face. Each one was identical. Emotionless. Featureless. Merciless. How had she been so stupid?! Had she not noticed them all before while walking down the street? Had she been that engrossed in her own sorrow that she had walked freely into a nest of vipers?

Another sudden awareness came to her then as she looked upon the ring of faces closing in on her: she did not want to die. Even with Motoki gone and her parents probably dead as well, she did not want to die.

Strange how keen the need for survival is among the human race.

Unazuki hiccupped back a series of sobs. If they planned on killing her there wasn't anything she could do about it. So she closed her eyes and counted the seconds and with each second, made a list of the things she would never get to do.

One. _I'll never get to kiss a boy. I mean _really_ kiss a boy. I'm 19 and I haven't even done that yet._

This was it. She was going to die any minute now. Thinking about it like that made it seem so surreal. Death. She had never given the subject much thought before. Like many people her age, she had gone through life with the unconscious belief that she was immortal and would continue to live out her life frozen in the blissful jubilance of youth, never aging past the age of 19 or 20. How silly that seemed now.

Two. _I'll never get married. Guess all those years of looking at bridal magazines was a big fat waste._

Come to think of it, her entire life seemed silly now that death itself was breathing down her neck. All the little things she had worried about, the frivolities of high school, the stress of finding a job and finding a job fast because of the rapidly sinking economy – none of it had mattered at all.

Three. _I'll never have any kids…_

If only she had realized that earlier.

Four. _I'll never …. I'll never …_

Her thoughts trailed off without conclusion. What was taking so long? She had lost count of the seconds passing. Something was up. It didn't take half an hour to kill someone. So, quivering with fear, Unazuki opened her left eye. Then the right eye. Now with both eyes opened, she gazed with disbelief upon the sight before her.

The creature nearest her had its hand outstretched. Unazuki stared at the hand for several seconds, not exactly sure what was going on. Five fingers, the palm facing up. Five fingers, really nothing more than sand rolled into five cylinders. Five fingers unfurled into a symbol of friendship. It couldn't be. Unazuki swallowed. This was somehow more unsettling than the death she'd felt sure was upon her a few seconds ago. At least then she had known what was about to go down. She had prepared herself for it. Now she had no idea what to expect. She continued to gape at the hand. What was going on? Why wasn't it attacking her?

As she pondered these thoughts, she felt something cold tickling the base of her skull. Absentmindedly, she brought up a hand to scratch.

_Take the hand offered you, Unazuki. Others were not so fortunate. _

Unazuki screamed. The tickle had become a full-blown itch. Once, several years ago when she was just a little girl, her father had taken her and Motoki out for a camping expedition in the mountains. During one of their nature hikes, she had somehow come into contact with some kind of irritating plant. Upon arriving back at camp, Unazuki had noticed her entire leg covered in a red rash. It lingered for days, its biting itch driving her mad, the pain soothed only temporarily by the aloe her father had administered. That trip had happened so long ago but she still remembered. She supposed it was because of that rash – so red and scary-looking that her little girl mind had convinced itself that her flesh was melting. She had cried to her father about it and he had laughed, saying she and her leg were going to be just fine. And sure enough, a few odd number of days later, everything was fine. Red rash had given away to pink skin.

This sensation now, at the bottom of her skull, reminded her of that day – of the itch and the rash. Only now it was much worse. Not so much the tickling itching, but the mental voice that came along with it.

Again it spoke to her, broadcasting the message directly into her temporal lobe: _Take this chance and all will be well._

Would it? Unazuki gulped back the bile that had risen in her throat. Could she really take that hand? She had seen what these things were capable of - the destruction they were capable of, the power they possessed_. Take the hand offered you. Take this chance and all will be well._ But would it? Could these things be trusted?

She doubted it. But then, she didn't want to die.

More than a little reluctantly, but still doing it all the same, Unazuki placed her hand in the hand of the droid. It was cold. Very cold.

They began to walk, hand in hand, like father escorting daughter down the church aisle to the groom. A thousand questions ran the gauntlet through her mind. Where was this thing taking her? What was going to happen when they reached the destination? And why on earth had she taken its hand in the first place?

Well, too late to question motivations now. They had reached the end of the line.

Surely Unazuki had drifted off yet again because the next time she took in the world around her, she was surprised to find that she was standing amidst a great crowd of people. Eyes fluttering in astonishment, she surveyed the environment, looking for recognizable landmarks. Toppled buildings, ruptured streets, the blazing sky above – all of Tokyo looked pretty much the same now. But nevertheless, Unazuki had a strong suspicion that she had traveled a great distance in a short amount of time.

"Brothers and sisters! Welcome, welcome, welcome!"

The droid holding Unazuki's hand let go and sauntered off to the sidelines of the street, joining several others of its kind. There were so many of them. They lined the street on both sides, doing nothing but standing and staring.

"Brothers! Sisters! You are about to become the first initiates into a very special group."

Unazuki scanned the faces of those gathered around her. Everyone looked about as scared as she felt. That was comforting, at least – to know that everyone here was in the same boat. She tried to tally the number of people standing just in her immediate vicinity and lost count at twenty-seven. And there were more than twenty-seven. Many, many more. Possibly as many as 150 people were huddled together on this lonely street – people of all ages and walks of life. A grey-headed grandmother stood just left of Unazuki in a flowery housedress, her back bent, the cane in her hand supporting the majority of her weight, while to Unazuki's right was a scrappy-looking boy of about eight, his black hair shaved into a buzz cut except for the rat-tail trailing down his neck. A gold hoop dangled from his left ear. People in dark business suits, people dressed in rags – every possible class was represented here.

"The time has come, the time to weed out the desirables from the unfit, the time to separate the world's population into two groups – the conquering and the conquered. My friends, you fall into the first group. You have the strength and the courage to do what is necessary and now I will give you the _power_."

Then the people standing in front of Unazuki shifted on their feet and for one quick instant, she could look straight through the crowd to the groom waiting for her. He was slightly elevated from the gathered commoners, standing upon a hill of rubble – a wraithlike shape clothed in a flowing cloak of deepest violet. Neither his face nor his body could be seen from within the shadowy folds of the robe, only his arms were visible. His hands hovered above a floating ball of black glass, set with a golden stand.

She knew this guy. This was the same guy who had killed Motoki. Suddenly Unazuki felt very claustrophobic. Sweat broke out on her forehead in clear jewels. Her heart began to pump out irregular beats. She had screwed up and screwed up big time. She wanted to flee but had nowhere to run to. Those sand creatures would kill her if she tried to escape. Them or that man in the robe.

_Help me, Usagi! _Unazuki squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture her (ex?) friend wherever she was. _I could really use Sailor Moon's help right now. And I'm sorry I yelled at you, but I'm really scared and I need you. Can you hear me? Oh please, oh please. Can you HEAR me?! USAGI, HELP ME! Please!!!"_

Eyes still closed, she waited for a response and got none.

"Step forward and do it freely! Receive the mark and all will be most well."

He was enjoying this, that man up there in the swirling robes of purple. You could tell just from the tone of his voice. He sounded on the verge of wetting himself. He was relishing his role. The way he was talking – it sounded like something out of a bad Saturday morning cartoon, but the implication behind his over-the-top phrasing was clear: _Either join with me or die. _

Once again, the people in front of Unazuki moved slightly, affording her a better look at the Robed One. He was reaching up with his hands now, reaching for his hood. Thin, gnarled fingers grasped the edge of it and yanked back, revealing something that was even worse than what Unazuki had anticipated.

The 100-odd people assembled together let out a collective but restrained gasp. They dared not scream. Just that one quick gasp that was more like a reflex reaction and then silence. A few people averted their gaze. Unazuki saw, then shot her eyes down to her feet, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. But the image remained. That face. Those faceless things hadn't been so bad after all. Not compared to this.

It had seemed almost insect-like. Gray skin, the color of a decomposing corpse, stretched taunt against the bony contours of the face. Those two round eyes, the same gray as the skin, lacking both iris and pupil staring out at them – holding her directly in their freakish gaze. They were overly large and looked like the eyes of a fly. Most of the hair had receded away from the slopping forehead but a few stubborn black strands remained like a comb-over job. The thing was lipless. It lacked eyebrows.

It hadn't looked human.

"What is it you want? A long life? Personal and financial happiness? Do some of you seek freedom from the monotony of your former lives? Do you crave excitement? I can bestow these things upon you. I want to make you into better people. I want to fulfill your wishes and make you happy, but in order for me to do that, I need to be sure of your allegiance. For there are others – others who would, if given the chance, take away the things I am about to give to you."

_Listen to him. He speaks the truth. Pledge yourselves to him and to me._

Another voice was speaking now, a voice totally unlike the wheezy rattle of the thing in the robe. It spoke softly and kindly, like a mother to her children. It was soothing. Unazuki felt herself relax. Her shoulders slumped back. Her legs went tingly. She felt lightheaded. A little tipsy.

The crowd began to move forward.

_I am Chaos, the long suffering. I am Chaos, the one who failed to become a star._

The crowd began to work itself into a line. Unazuki fell in behind the grandmother in the housedress. Rat-tail boy stepped behind her. Unazuki smiled and rolled back her head so that she could look up at the sky. It didn't seem so scary now. In fact, it was pretty. Pretty, pretty, pretty. It pulsed in time with the words being spoken.

_Throughout the ages, I have taken on many avatars and have employed millions to carry out my goals and dealings. I have always been. When the first star winked into existence, I saw it happen. I watched from afar as the first humans walked upright. And since that time, I have been searching. Searching for the one who would carry by victorious banner into battle and give me the glory that was rightfully mine._

The line began to move forward.

_I have been called Master of many – from the lovelorn peasant seeking revenge to the renegade soldier seeking divinity. Many have called me Master. But none were my servants. I have scoured the cosmos looking for my humble warrior and have finally found him. Satoshi __Yomata, the one now known as Death Phantom. For the first time since eternity I can finally say in all truthfulness that he is my servant, I am his Master and I am fully pleased with him._

The line dragged onward at a snail's pace. Unazuki kept her eyes low, staring at the feet of the grandmother. She was wearing black slip-ons with support hose that had come down around her ankles.

_You will serve Death Phantom with your full heart's loyalty and in so doing, you will be serving me and I will see this and bestow my blessings upon you. For offerings of gold and silver are not the things which win my favor. Should you offer me jewels; I will scatter them at your feet. I care not for such tawdry human tokens. No, I only require your soul. Is that such an unreasonable tradeoff? _

And then, the black slip-ons with the bunched up support hose were gone and Unazuki was next in line. She looked up and saw a frail-looking girl dressed in black vinyl standing before her. The girl looked familiar, but Unazuki couldn't think of her name. Some kind of symbol had been placed upon the girl's forehead, a black upside-down crescent moon or something similar.

"You're next. Don't be afraid," the girl said.

Unazuki stepped forward until she was an arm's length away from the thing, from Death Phantom. At this close a distance she could smell the stench rising off him, like moldy leaves or soured milk. Not a pleasant smell in either case. His face was still the same horrible visage as it had been, but Unazuki was no longer repulsed by it. She didn't judge people on their looks.

"Unazuki Furuhata," said Death Phantom through a lipless mouth. "I am so _(Wheeeeze) _happy to see you standing here. Are you ready to become the newest member of an ever-growing family?"

She nodded, but suddenly wasn't so sure. That old uncertainly was back. Along with the fear and the feeling that she had gotten herself into one heck of a mess. She looked to her left and saw the row of droids. She looked to her right and saw a massive cluster of people, each with that black stamp upon their foreheads. She saw the grandmother staring back at her, the black inverted moon standing out strong against her pale wrinkly skin. She looked forward and saw Death Phantom glaring back at her – his lopsided version of that symbol carved onto his own forehead.

"Are you ready to take the mark?"

Somehow Unazuki was able to shake her head.

"No? Then tell me what it is you want. Eternal life? Riches beyond imagination? No … not these things. Your brother, correct? You miss your brother. You want him back."

She gasped. It was true. She didn't want Motoki back, she _needed_ him back. Just like food or water or any other crucial life-sustaining sustenance, she needed her big brother back. "Y-you're reading my mind."

"I have no need to. I was there, remember?"

"Then you…" She swallowed. She had to say this next thing, no matter what the consequences. "Then you remember how you killed him."

There. It was out. Too late to take it back now.

But Death Phantom did not strike her. He chuckled warmly instead. "Oh no, child. See there? He lives just as surely as you do." And with that, she took her lightly by the elbow and turned her slightly to the left.

And she saw him. Alive. Motoki. Looking back at her. He smiled and waved. He was standing among the droids. Alive and well with a healthy pink glow about his face.

Unazuki made a move for him but was held back. She struggled against the restraining force with all of her might. She reached a hand out for Motoki, the tears streaming down her face. He nodded and outstretched one of his. Their fingers brushed. She wanted to scream out his name but could not. She was too overcome with joy.

Then the girl in black stepped between them. She narrowed her eyes and nodded back in Death Phantom's direction.

"Of course," said Unazuki, turning back to the man who had given her back her life. "Yes, yes. Thank you. So much."

Death Phantom took her face in his rough hands. "I require only one thing of you. All I ask is-"

"My allegiance. Yes. I give it to you. You have it. And thank you. Thank you so much. This is… I mean, you don't know what this means…"

Death Phantom leaned in close. "Hush now." With one hand he swept her red bangs aside and with the other, he pulled her in. Then he kissed her forehead. It was like touching stone to skin. "Welcome to the Black Moon Clan."

…

"That was a very brave thing you did."

Usagi smiled feebly up at Mamoru. "You sound surprised."

They had made it to safety. All of them. They had found refuge at the bottom of a small grassy knoll that the soccer team often used for practice. There was a steep drop-off, quite dangerous if you didn't know it was there, and that had afforded them protection from the thing that destroyed the school. Looking out from the football field would offer you nothing but a flat green expanse. The practice soccer court couldn't be seen. Furthermore, a fence separated it from the rest of the city, representing the place where the school's property line ended and that made it even better.

All that remained of the school was the gymnasium and that bridge that had connected the two buildings, now leading to nowhere. The rest was wreckage.

She had made it out just in time. She had emerged from the belly of the beast just as the roof had collapsed. And what made it all the more impressive was that she'd made it out all in one piece.

Pain bit through the back of her leg at that thought, reminding her that she was only _mostly_ in one piece. She winced at the flare of pain and Mamoru noticed. "Does it hurt bad?"

"Not bad. I think I did well, all things considered."

Standing behind Mamoru, Haruka whistled. "That was ballsy, Usagi. I'm talking premium custom ballsy."

"That's actually pretty disgusting, Haruka," said Usagi. She groaned. Her vision swirled. She felt sick.

"Brave? Yes. Stupid? Most certainly." Luna appeared suddenly between Haruka's feet. She looked a little ticked. "In this instance, I would say the stupid outweighs the bravery factor. What business did you have going back inside when you knew it wasn't safe? You could've been killed, Usagi. Do you understand that? Do you have a death wish? You're lucky-"

Yes, she had been lucky. Some near misses you could attribute your survival to your own personal skill and expertise or perhaps due to the intervention of some Higher Authority, but that rescue hadn't been one of them. At least she didn't think so. She'd just been plain old lucky. But that didn't mean she was in the mood for a lecture.

"Do me a favor, okay, Luna?"

"Put a sock in it?"

Usagi nodded. Boy, did she have a headache. It was bordering on a migraine. Too much excitement, she supposed. Moaning, she massaged her temples with her fingers. "Look, I'm sorry if I worried anybody, but I did what I had to do. Put yourself in my position. Could you really have just stood there looking the other way, knowing a life was in danger and that-" She broke off. "Everything turned out all right, didn't it?"

"Yes, this time! But you can't rely on that every … it's no excuse to…" Luna hissed, clearly frustrated. "You can be so thickheaded sometimes, Usagi." And with that, she literally turned tail and slinked away.

_Right back at cha, _Usagi smirked. Blood pounded hammer-like through her constricted veins, wiping the smile off her face. Spots blossomed in her vision. What she wouldn't have done for an Advil. Whimpering from the throbbing, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. That helped ease the pain a little bit, but she could still hear them talking. They were discussing how foolish she had been. Foolish, stupid, brave-but-incredibly-dumb – those were the kind of adjectives being tossed around.

They didn't understand.

"I mean, sure, the kid was in danger, but she should've at least waited for the rest of us. We could've gone in together-"

"Right. We have to stick together if we have any chance of-"

"She almost died. I mean, it was _that close_. I don't think she understands that."

But she did understand. She understood that and so much more. Usagi's eyes flew open as if she had been struck by the hurt of their words and when they did, the first thing she saw was mother and child, standing way in the back. Mom had Isamu in her arms and a smile on her face. They looked so similar. The same carroty hair, the same burst of freckles across the bridge of the nose … the same look of happy reunion so clearly evident on both their faces. Seeing the two of them safe together made the sacrifice all worthwhile. She knew she had done the right thing. No matter what anyone else said, she had done right and wasn't sorry.

Even from this distance, Usagi could make out tears glistening in the mother's eyes as she planted a wet smooch on the side of Isamu's face. Grinning, the boy returned the favor, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck and –

Something flashed in Isamu's hand. A sudden glint of light bouncing off a reflective surface – nothing really out of the ordinary, but something that caught Usagi's attention nonetheless. She got to her feet, every ounce of her focus directed to the thing Isamu was holding, her headache gone, forgotten.

It couldn't be. She wanted it to be so, but wanting something doesn't make it happen. And yet… And yet, he had been playing with something back when she found him. At the time, she had assumed he was involved with a game of jacks.

She took a closer look and when she was certain that it really _was_ the thing she thought it to be, she put both hands to her mouth and wept with joy.

"So now we have three things to worry about, right?" Minako counted the concerns off on her fingers. "Death Phantom, Hotaru, and Chaos." She shook her head. "Ami, why don't you whip us up a flawless battle formula or something? We could use it."

Ami sighed. "I'd love to, but to be perfectly honest, I'm mostly concerned about Chaos. What is it doing back here after all this time? Usagi told us she defeated it back at the Cauldron and I'm inclined to believe her. But it's back and seems to have gained in power. Instead of being confined to the Cauldron, now it's here, floating above our heads."

Everyone looked up and then back down.

"Or maybe it only seems stronger," Artemis mumbled.

Luna fixed him in a questioning stare. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. Setsuna was talking about how the natural course of history has gotten severely off track. Events are happening sooner and out of sequence than originally intended, right, Setsuna?"

She nodded. "Death Phantom's uprising was supposed to come after the founding of Crystal Tokyo. Not before."

"Right. So what if Usagi _did_ defeat Chaos but it was somehow reborn – just as you all were?"

_- What about Chaos?_

_- Chaos' core Chaos seed and Guardian Chaos both melted into the sea of the Cauldron. They might be born again._

Those words resonated deep within Usagi's spirit. Guardian Cosmos had told her that two years ago. She had spoken an unwanted truth – that maybe, just maybe, Chaos was invincible, destined to be reborn again and again with each defeat. Usagi had asked and Guardian Cosmos had answered, but since the truth wasn't what Usagi wanted to hear, she had simply forgotten it.

"-so it was reborn almost immediately following the battle, but in a much weaker, embryonic state. At the same time, it sensed that the shine of the Silver Crystal had gone out and it seized upon this opportunity to strike anew. It made a connection with Satoshi and used him as a conduit through which it would have revenge upon the White Moon. So the timetable moved up considerably, causing certain events to occur sooner than expected. That's why it's hiding behind Satoshi. It knows that it's still not strong enough to win in a face-to-face fight. Satoshi's just acting as temporary commander until Chaos gains back enough power to take the reins."

"Well, weakened or not, we're still no match for it," Setsuna said. "We can't transform and that's a major strike against our side. It was hard enough to win against it the first time and now that we're just ordinary civilians, I'm afraid another victory is going to be pretty much impossible."

Standing apart from the rest of the group, Usagi smiled warmly at Isamu. He caught her looking and smiled back, waving a chubby hand. "You're right," she said as she spun back to her friends. "We _are_ just ordinary people now. But what difference should that make?"

Haruka snorted. "It's going to make a difference when we go up against the enemy and have our butts handed to us."

Usagi swished her hand through the air. "What I mean is, we're still Sailor Soldiers regardless of whether or not we can transform. And even that shouldn't matter. We fight and defend because we know it's the right thing to do. We know that because we were all born with an inherent understanding of right and wrong. It has nothing to do with the Sailor Crystal. The Crystals simply provide us with the means to protect the things we hold most dear. But our sense of duty, our desire to uphold justice, comes from here," Usagi thumped her chest. "We listen to our hearts speak and we follow through. We do this because we're human. It's not about the tiaras or the earrings or the uniform. Those things aren't worth anything. It's the person inside that uniform – that's what really counts. The guiding soul behind the powers. I see that now. For the first time since this whole thing started, I understand it. I only wish I could've understood sooner."

Then she turned back to Isamu, still in his mother's arms, and took hold of his small hands. The Mystical Silver Crystal gleamed dully between his fingers, whole and completely intact. "You lookin' at this?" he asked, unfolding his hand. "I found it on the floor back there."

The Crystal blinked at Usagi. It looked incredibly large in this child's hand.

"It's real pretty. Is it yours?"

Usagi nodded and placed her palm against one of his dimpled cheeks. "Yes, it's mine, but it's also yours. It belongs to everybody." She then took a step back and addressed the entire group. "Excuse me, can I have everyone's attention?"

This time she needed no amplification, nor did she have to repeat herself.

"My name is Usagi Tsukino and for the past four years or so, I've been living a double life. On the one hand, I went to school and lived my life as a typical teenager. I had sleepovers, I did chores around the house, and more often than not, I forgot to turn in homework assignments. Just your average teen. Then on the other hand, I fought for love and justice as Sailor Moon."

A few murmurings from the crowd followed this, but for the most part the original shock behind the news had long since passed.

"So I hold myself to blame for what's happened. It's my fault. If I had kept a stronger heart, maybe I could've put an end to it before …. before…"

Here her voice crackled to a halt. She lowered her head, a tear trickling down from one closed eye. Then a hand slid around her shoulder, offering comfort. Too light to be Mamoru's. Shingo's. She knew this without even having to look. Empowered by her brother's touch, she raised her head and clasped her fist around his. "We've all lost someone. We've all made sacrifices. But the time for sacrifice ends now."

She turned to Isamu and withdrew the Silver Crystal from his hands – brought together again thanks to the faith of a child. Once powerless and lying in glassy splinters, it had been formed anew: its potential, endless. She held it as one holds a fragile robin's egg.

"This Crystal is a symbol of unity. Its power stems from the bonds of friendship and love. It's a beautiful power that can never be extinguished."

And then she reached out and placed it in the hand of Isamu's mother. "What's your name?" Usagi asked.

"Yo-" The nameless mother swallowed. "Yoshiko."

"Look inside yourself, Yoshiko. Gather together all that light. Add your strength to the Crystal. Together I know we can overcome the nightmare."

Yoshiko regarded the Crystal in her hands with a wary curiosity. She bounced it in her palm as if judging the weight. For a long time she merely looked at it. Finally she said, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Usagi smiled sympathetically. "You're over-thinking it. Just relax. Think about your son. How much you love him. How you'd do anything for him. Think about how sacred you were when we left him behind and how glad you were when he came back, safe and sound."

She didn't look convinced.

Enclosing Yoshiko's fingers around the Crystal, Usagi spoke softly and directly into the mother's eyes. "We all have a star in our hearts, Yoshiko. Somebody told me that a long time ago and I've always believed it. I believe we all have the power to overcome the darkness within. Don't you?"

Her look remained skeptical and stayed that why for a while. But then something happened. Yoshiko's eyes grew wide, childlike. Her body seemed to melt as a sigh escaped. A peaceful, almost goofy grin touched her lips. "Yeah," she said, her voice coming out slow and unhurried. "I can feel it now. It's warm. It feels …. good. That's the only way I know how to describe it. Just … good."

And was it just a product of imagination, or did the Silver Crystal seem a tad brighter – the light reflecting off its many edges a little more crisp?

"It's _great_, actually. I've never felt so-" She hiccupped suddenly and touched a finger to an eye. "I – I'm crying. God, I can't believe it. I must look so stupid, but I really don't care!" Laughing, she picked a person at random from the crowd and pressed the Silver Crystal into their hands. "You try. It's …. it's …. well, it's beyond words, as you can see." She laughed again. It felt so good to hear somebody laughing again, and not from haughty overconfidence.

The person Yoshiko had selected turned out to be Mrs. Harrison, English teacher extraordinaire. Behind her oversized spectacles, timid eyes peered back at Usagi. She looked so unsure, so intimidated - so unlike the woman the woman Usagi was used to, who gave out no extra credit and kept a very strict policy of three absences and three absences only, doctor's note or no. And here she stood now, shaking in her boots, both eyes locked upon Usagi, looking at her former student with the awe and respect reserved for royalty.

Usagi nodded in understanding.

Mrs. Harrison closed her eyes and brought the Silver Crystal up to her massive breasts. "Wow," she whispered. Her eyes opened and flew down to the thing in her grasp. It sparkled back, clearly brighter than before. No question about it. She turned to Yoshiko beside her. "As a teacher of the English language and having studied Japanese for over 10 years, I can tell you that's the most adequate word to describe it: Wow."

Then she laughed, anal Mrs. Harrison – who had dispensed upon Usagi her fair share of detentions, who never cracked a smile nor told a joke whilst conducting class. But there she was all the same, laughing and embracing the stranger Yoshiko like a sister. It was ground shaking. Breath-taking. The kind of thing you never would have expected even in a million years.

From Mrs. Harrison, the Crystal traveled to the boy in the Yomiuri Giants jersey, who reacted in much the same way as his two predecessors. And from there it was passed back. From hand to hand it traveled, person to person, glowing brighter and more radiant with each exchange. And with every soul it touched, there were shouts of joy and tears of having experienced some great absolution. The storm was breaking. Finally, the end was in sight. At least that's how it felt for those who placed their fingers upon the Silver Crystal of the Moon. It brought hope, that tiny fragment of stone. Hope, which is always the starting point for overcoming impossible hurdles.

…

Huddled together around a burning car at the corner of Kagurazaka and Waseda sat Susan Mercer, her son Franklin "Frankie" Joshua, and her next-door neighbor, the curmudgeonly Mr. Hotaka Fujita. All of them bunched together, trying to absorb what little warmth was being offered. They did not speak amongst themselves. They could not due to the language barrier. Mrs. Mercer spoke mainly English with a few choice native words sprinkled in (mostly just "Yes," "No", and "Where is the bathroom?") and Mr. Fujita's speech was exclusively Japanese. But they had stayed together every since the first horrific reports had come in over the television.

Each member of the threesome (with the possible exception of little Frankie) kept quiet out of worry as well and the preoccupation that brought. They were worried about themselves and their own survival, true, but they were also concerned for each other's well being. If they were going to make it through this thing, they wanted to come out of it together. And they were also anxious about Mamoru, that nice college kid neighbor of theirs who had left them at the start of all this and had never returned. Was he okay? Was he alive? And if not, was his body lying in some ditch, bruised and bloody without the benefit of even a proper burial?

They asked themselves these questions but did not bother to pursue answers.

So they remained in place, hoping for a miracle but mostly just praying for an end to it all. And then it struck them, all three of them at the same time: a sudden feeling of happiness and optimism and light. Simultaneously, all three heads snapped up. All six eyes grew wide. Mr. Fujita was the first to stand, followed shortly by Mrs. Mercer and Frankie.

"It's coming from-" Mrs. Mercer began in English.

"-over there," Mr. Fujita finished in Japanese.

They followed the scent of hope like bloodhounds and when they finally arrived at the practice soccer field at the base of the hill, it seemed as though they had traveled a great distance in only the blink of an eye.

…

They came trickling in from every corner of the city, the distraught who still held out hope. Though relatively few in number, it warmed Usagi's heart to see them regardless. She watched without actively taking part, watched the Silver Crystal as it was passed from person to person, becoming brighter and brighter still. The Mystical Silver Moon Crystal, the most powerful sought-after object in the universe, once closely guarded now being passed freely among the people here. It sent chills through Usagi.

It took much longer than expected for the Crystal to make its way back round again, but that was alright. More than alright. They had heard her calling them. Or sensed her. Or felt her or something. It really didn't matter what.

And then, nearly ten minutes from the time it was given to Yoshiko, mother of Isamu, the Crystal reached Naru. Someone placed it in her hands, clapped her on the shoulder and exclaimed joyfully before joining in on the group celebration that was taking place.

Naru stared at Silver Crystal in her hands. By now, it had taken on a glow of its own – sharp and luminous. Its light chased the shadows from her face, but her green eyes remained dark. "I always knew you were different," she breathed.

The noise of the crowd was nearly deafening. They were happy noises, the hoots and hollerings of rejoicing, but Naru's words sliced through them like a knife. They plunged through Usagi's skin with silver cease. They lodged themselves into her heart and twisted. The smile that had appeared on her face dematerialized. That feeling of joyous camaraderie popped like a balloon.

"Naru," she began. "I-"

"Special," Naru interrupted. "That's all that I meant." Then the shadows faded from her eyes as she added her power to the Crystal. A brilliant flash followed, and the light of the Silver Crystal swelled to a new climax. Naru smiled.

As did Usagi.

Then it passed to Gurio and when it left his hands, the Crystal appeared nearly overstuffed with power. Light danced inside its glass shell, straining against the finite confines. Limitless power condensed within a small space. It looked apt to pop.

From Gurio to Ami next. It hovered above her palms, spinning widely on its axis. And slowly, the glowing clear luminance began to take on another color. It started at the tip of the stone and worked down like streaking rain, until the Silver Crystal was no longer silver at all, but a stunning shade of Caribbean aqua.

From Ami to Makoto. And with the power of a new heart, the color changed again – from aqua to pine-green.

From Makoto to Rei, and with the exchange, the sharp hue of green forest pine gave way to the crackling red of an unchecked flame.

Next, Minako and stunning yellow.

Setsuna followed and with the touch of her fingers, the yellow was snuffed out by a restful shade black.

Black to navy. Setsuna to Haruka.

And then it was Michiru's turn. She opened her hands and the Crystal floated willingly to her, leaving behind a misty trail of navy blue sparkles in its wake. She closed her eyes and her hair suddenly flew back from her face as if by a breeze. The Crystal changed color again, its light now taking on sea-green tint, and as it did so, Michiru was healed. The purple in her face receded. Her split lip zipped itself closed. Even the dried blood splattered across the front of her dress had disappeared – washed pure by the cleansing light of the Silver Moon Crystal.

Haruka brought herself to her partner's side. "Michiru! You're-"

Michiru nodded silently, her engaging eyes looking back at Haruka unobstructed. The swelling had gone down. More than that, it looked as though nothing had happened to her, as if the fight between her and Hotaru had never taken place at all.

Her skin gleaming white, her hair brushed clean, the knots and tangles gone, Michiru handed the Crystal to Mamoru. He looked at Usagi for confirmation before proceeding.

She gave him a thumbs-up.

Mamoru tilted his head forward, looked at the Crystal, temporarily lost in its majestic beauty, and then brought his eyes back to Usagi. There really was no contest. She was more beautiful by far.

He mouthed the words "I love you."

Then there was an explosion. An explosion without sound, without force, but with plenty of light. There was a shared gasp of _"Aaaah!" _as the Crystal burst forth with a golden magnificence. Its many faces threw back a million-plus candlepower radiance that forced the crowd to avert their eyes. Then the light flickered out to a more manageable glow and the people gathered looked again to see the Silver Crystal expressed in purest gold, as though it had been sheeted in gold leaf.

At this point, Usagi became aware again of the hand upon her shoulder. It had been resting there since before this whole process had begun. She turned to the owner. "Shingo, it's your turn now."

He opened his mouth to dissent, but Usagi silenced him with a finger to the lips. "Don't be sacred. I need your help. _We_ need your help."

"I dunno…" He wouldn't meet her eyes.

She stuck out her tongue and winked. "Ah, don't be a sissy. Here, I'll hold your hand." And she did and together they walked right up to the spinning crystal, now levitating a good five feet above the ground.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not anymore," Shingo replied. He threw one last glance back at his sister before stretching out his left hand. He could feel the power radiating off the Crystal in waves of heat. He closed his eyes and extended his fingers. They lightly stroked its smooth surface.

Then he threw his eyes open and screamed out the words: "My power to Sailor Moon! My power to my sister Usagi!"

_Clink. Clink. _

Usagi could feel his energy. She could feel it flowing through his body in sizzling rivers – originating somewhere deep within his very being and then cascading out via his fingertips. His power, his love for her, was causing the Crystal to change.

_Clink! Clink! Clink, clink, clink, clink!_

The power that had been steadily building within finally reached its zenith. The Silver Crystal blew apart in a dazzling array of prismatic glitter. For one horrible moment Usagi was certain that she had destroyed it all over again - that its power levels had reached critical mass and that this time, there would be no second chance, no magical reformation.

But a second look showed that everything was fine. The Crystal was still very much intact. It had only changed. It had taken on the appearance of a fully bloomed lotus flower. Binomial name _Nelumbo nucifera_, Ami would have elaborated. The pedals appeared to have been expertly chiseled into shape by some fine artisan. The entire thing looked like a tiny, cut-glass statuette. And serving in place of the lotus' yellow center was the mark of the Silver Millennium. It hovered inches above the Crystal proper, twirling slowly. The mark of the Silver Millennium. The symbol of Usagi's linage.

She could feel the eyes of everyone upon her. They were watching her from a distance, wondering _"What next?"_ The time for laughing and celebration was over. Now it was time to get down to business.

She could also feel the power of the Crystal. Though she stood a good distance away, she still felt its heat. It burned brightly before her with all the power of an artificial sun. The air around it popped and sizzled with energy. It had been re-energized thanks to those people standing around her – her fellow soldiers, her love, her friends, family …. perfect strangers.

All thanks to them. They had done her a great service and she would repay them by not giving up.

"Thank you, everyone," she said. "Thank you so much."

Then she stepped forward – three steps were all it took – and touched the Crystal.

Another silent explosion, blinding all those gathered. White, this time. A wave of white light, first enveloping Usagi, then sweeping over Shingo, who was standing behind her.

Mamoru tried to keep her in his sight, first squinting and then putting up a hand to shield his eyes from the intense glare. But it was all in vain. He briefly made out Usagi standing in the middle of the glow, her arms outstretched, and then she was gone. Lost in the white. Mamoru tried to keep his eyes open a little longer but eventually the force of the light got to him. He could feel it searing through his retinas. He had no choice but to look away.

It washed over everything and everyone. That sacred white light, cutting through the darkness. All was absorbed. The multitude assembled, the buildings nearby. All detail disappeared. Everything. Encased and erased within this cloud of white.

His eyes still little more than two pencil-thin lines, Mamoru counted off the seconds in his head.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six._

It seemed to last forever. Then, somewhere between twelve and thirteen, the whiteness began to recede. Even with his eyes shut, he had still been able to see the light. It had only been diffused slightly behind his eyelids. Now it was fading little by little. He continued to count. By the time he reached seventeen, everything was dark again.

His mouth was suddenly very dry. He wiggled his tongue around in his mouth hoping to stimulate some saliva production, but nothing happened. It then dawned on him that he was experiencing the worst case of stomach butterflies of his entire life. He wanted to open his eyes and he did not want to open his eyes.

He took a moment to weigh the two options.

He opened his eyes.

He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Usagi.

But it was not Usagi. Somebody else had taken her place. A goddess now stood in the place where, not a moment before, there had been a knobby-kneed, runny-nosed teenager. That girl had been wearing torn clothes dirtied with blood and grime. This new figure was attired in garments of royalty. She wore a long flowing gown of semi-transparent organza, layered with white satin. Visible through the sheer hemline, her dainty feet – tipped in white high heels. Moving up, the girl's legs vanished as the material of the dress became thicker. Glittering jewels and ornaments were interwoven along the bodice in an elaborate swirling design. Extending waist-level from the back of the gown, resembling the wings of a butterfly, was a large bow of some translucent material. Pearl studs gleamed in hair that had once been blonde but was now stark white. The ears of the girl had been pierced three times, twice with pearls and once with dangling golden spirals.

And embossed on the forehead, above the sweetly closed eyes: a golden crescent moon. The emblem of the Silver Millennium.

Following the recession of the light, silence prevailed. Those gathered were speechless by the beauty of this girl. The aura surrounding her was one of quiet authority. No one spoke. No one moved an inch. They just stared, totally uncomprehending.

Time ticked on. The silence continued. Nobody knew just what to say.

It was Luna who spoke first and the word she chose summed up everyone's thoughts adequately enough.

"Princess."


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. No date given:

_Well, dear friends, let us take a break from the ongoing saga of La Angst de Hotaru with some good news. And good news I have! I'm in love! Totally and without question! His name is Satoshi and he's a high school boy. An eleventh grader, I think. We met today in the auditorium. He was giving a speech about graduating to the high school level and after it was over, HE ASKED ME FOR DIRECTIONS TO THE OFFICE!!! Then, THEN, he asked me out. Like on a date. Yes. Me with him. Out on a date with romance and maybe possibly the chance of kissing afterwards. It all happened so fast! I'm still a little in shock. But I'll get over it! (ha, ha) But really, I'm having a hard time believing it. It's too good to be true, that's what a part of me is saying. But then another part is like, "GO FOR IT!!!" And I think I'm gonna go for it. I can't believe this. It's too wonderful. I suppose I'll re-read this one day and gag over how cheesy I'm being, but I don't care. Yes, I am cheesy. I'm cheesy and excited and nervous and in love. I haven't even said that out loud yet, the fact that, you know, I'm IN LOVE. I want it to be my own sweet little secret for a while. (sigh, sigh) Course, if this date works out, I'll have to introduce him to Haruka… But I guess we can cross that bridge when we come to it. _

_PS: Hotaru Yomata. Sounds great, don't it? Like it was meant to be._

…

"Princess?"

She didn't open her eyes. Not yet. First she wanted to fully experience and appreciate the sensations taking place on inside and out. A curious smell, like that of vanilla, tickled by her nose. Her entire body felt tingly, overdrawn with power. From the tip of her head to the ends of her toes, she could feel it coursing through. It was there, pressing against the underside of the skin, burning behind her eyelids. It felt as though she had been living the last two months inside a dark closet and now, suddenly, the door had been thrown wide open, flooding everything in light.

For the first time in a long, long while, she felt alive.

Only once before could she ever recall having been filled with such power, and that was at the Cauldron. In that instant before defeating Chaos, when all the Sailor Crystals of the galaxy had merged with her own, she had, however briefly, glimpsed the face of God. She had transcended to a level beyond even that of Sailor Soldier. For one fleeting moment, lasting the breadth of one heartbeat, she had merged with something that most people had no idea even existed. Something cosmic.

This feeling now was similar. It ranked right up there. Except it wasn't being powered by the energy of a thousand different Sailor Crystals, but rather the simple heart-shines of no more than one hundred and twenty ordinary people.

"Princess?"

At this, Usagi Tsukino / Princess Serenity / the former Sailor Moon opened her eyes. And a number of things happened.

Another flash of light blazed through the already super-charged air, this one a cool shade of blue instead of white. And unlike the previous burst, this seemed strangely localized. Concentrated. As if around a person.

It was coming from Ami. The girl was caught up in the glow, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. She swept a fearful look in Usagi's direction.

The Princess nodded back. _Embrace it,_ she whispered with her mind.

Still cocooned within the haze of blue, Ami visibly relaxed. She closed her eyes and opened her hands in a surrendering gesture. Eased by the words of her Princess, she welcomed the oncoming metamorphosis.

The aura-like glow around her condensed further. Then her clothes disappeared in a poof of sparkles. And when the magical vapor cleared, there she stood – looking not so much like the schoolgirl genius that she was, but more like a princess in her own right. Her school uniform (the one with the missing bow and ragged skirt) had somehow transformed into a flowing blue frock. The dress itself, obviously high-end couture and featuring an empire waist, seemed to have been constructed from the finest silk. Three gemstones, most likely sapphires, gleamed along each of the spaghetti-thin shoulder straps. A simple blue ribbon tied around the neck served as a choker.

The spectators circled around had no time to marvel at this miraculous transformation, for another flash of colored light soon diverted their attention away. Now it was Makoto's turn. A shimmer of green, a swirl of sparkle, and _poof! _She, too, had become transfigured. Gone were her soiled clothes – her wrinkled top, her torn-at-the-knee jeans. In their stead, she now wore a multi-tiered ballgown, also sewn from silk. The outer layers of the dress had been dyed a dark evergreen shade and were held in place by two faux flowers, pinned at the waist and peeking out from behind the many curtains of fabric - a pale green petticoat. The hair ties she usually wore to restrain her ponytail (which amounted to two green balls) were now gone as well, replaced by a single green flower.

Another flash. Rei gasped as the folds of her miko robe were suddenly caught up, as if in a strong breeze. Then they lifted up over her head and fluttered away on the wind, leaving her standing there in a sleek, red formfitting number.

The flashes came faster now, lighting up the faces of the awed onlookers like fireworks. It followed the pattern set before, working its way through those who had given their strength to the crystal.

Five colorful blazes later, and Usagi looked upon her friends with tears in her eyes. They were the same, yet different. Just as she now was. They were all there – Ami, Makoto, Rei, Minako, Setsuna, Haruka, Michiru – the seven of them lined in a row, looking like a procession of visiting royalty. And in a sense, that was what they were. Royalty. For they had shed their civilian guises and now stood before the crowd in shining gowns with their respective planetary symbols gleaming upon each of their foreheads - indicators of other proud lineages.

They had become the Sailor Princesses of the Solar System.

But that wasn't all. Standing right alongside the Royal Court were three people Usagi instantly pegged as the team's animal helpers. The key words here being "standing" and "people". Apparently they had exchanged their animal forms for something a little more dexterous. In her human form, Deimos bore more than a passing resemblance to Rei. Both girls wore their black hair long, past the waist, with Deimos's locks done up in buns around the ears. Both had a penchant for high heels. Both possessed the same serious eyes capable of freezing a man in his tracks with a single look. She wore a shimmering blue outfit reminiscent of a one-piece bathing suit with a six pointed star emblazoned across the chest. Bows were secured around the neck and waist. In her left hand she held a black feather, the only indication that her other form was that of a crow.

For his part, Artemis had transformed into a handsome human male. The crescent moon was still there, shining pure and golden on his brow, and his eyes were the same green they had always been. But everything else was completely different. Everything else was white. From his long hair parted down the center to his crisp top to his creased pants and polished boots – white. The only glint of any other color came from the crescent moon necklace he wore. He sported three of these markings. One on the forehead of course, one hanging by the string around his neck, and the other, a stencil of the symbol left from where a portion of his shirt had been cut away. Dangling from the bottom of the shirt were several straps and buckles, attached to the pants in a suspender fashion, arranged in such a way that left his navel exposed.

And….

"You've proven me wrong, you know," Luna said. Her black fur was now long black hair, styled in the same odango fashion as her mistress. Her yellow and black dress, the one with the black puffs attached to the chestpiece, rustled as she walked. Around her neck, a crescent moon necklace dangled. Her blue eyes latched onto Usagi's as if silently asking for forgiveness. They were the same eyes. Nothing about them had changed.

Usagi shrugged with a clanking of jewelry. "Proving you wrong is what I'm best at." Then she smiled, showing that she bore no ill will against her attendant. She offered Luna a hand. "It's okay. Really."

Choking back a sob, Luna fell into her open arms. She pressed her face against one of Usagi's soft cheeks and whispered an apology, though she knew one was not called for. Even so, she felt it the right thing to do. "I should have never doubted you. All these years, all the times before …. you've never let us down. You were always our cornerstone, our guiding light, showing us the way. I'm so sorry I ever lost my faith in you, and I hope-"

She was rambling now but she couldn't stop. Too much needed to be said.

A gentle chuckle served to ease off any further apologies. "Now what did I just say? Forget it. We're on a new page now."

Still weeping, but now out of gratitude rather than regret, Luna thanked Usagi for the absolution and backed away.

Usagi watched her rejoin Artemis. She smiled and nodded when Luna turned back. Artemis returned the gesture on his partner's behalf, but a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn't quite sure what to make of all this. The others, her teammates, her friends, and the rest of the kind strangers gathered all wore similar expressions. They were all looking at her with a bizarre mix of fear, respect, and trepidation. She could see the conflicting emotions swirling around in their eyes like raging ocean waters. Each one fading away, then giving rise to a new uncertainty.

It was time to address their fears head on. Time to explain things. Time for a speech.

She had just opened her mouth to speak when she saw him.

He was coming toward her, directly toward her - his cloak flapping out behind. She saw his shape first and then focused in on his eyes. They were still that remarkable shade of blue she had fallen in love with. They shone like two miniature earths, even partially obscured behind his domino mask. Usagi felt magnetically drawn to those eyes. It would be easy to become lost within their depths. She loved those eyes. As she loved the man looking out from behind them.

His bathrobe had morphed into a three-piece tuxedo set, tinted as soft a purple as the springtime sunrise. Running up the lapels of his vest and around the ends of the sleeves were tiny glass decorations that caught the light and reflected it back nicely. Trailing down his neck were two white ribbons, apparently the device that held his mask in place. White gloves added that finishing touch of class to the ensemble.

"Mamoru?"

She wasn't sure if she had said the name out loud or only in her head.

"Usagi?"

Somebody else was calling her name. With some degree of difficulty, Usagi managed to turn away from Mamoru and saw Shingo. He was looking at her in the same way Artemis had. In the same way everyone else was looking at her now.

With fear. With admiration. With a look that said they didn't know quite what to think.

"Shingo, it's me," Usagi assured.

He said nothing.

"Gooberface, it's _me._"

Then he grinned, his smile shattering that doubtful look like a sledgehammer slamming through glass. Placing hands on hips, he gave his sister a thorough once-over. "And just who are you supposed to be, anyway? Midnight Prom Barbie?"

Unable to keep the grin from her face, Usagi hauled off as if to sock him one. He cringed back, laughing.

The crowd noticeably eased as they watched the brother / sister act play out. A few even chuckled right alongside Shingo.

"But how?" There was astonishment in Setsuna's voice. She had both hands up in front of her face, turning them over and inspecting her fingers in the same intense fashion a biologist would view a centipede through a microscope. Both arms were wrapped in black, opera-length gloves. Like the others, her previous garb had disappeared and in its place, she now wore a slick black dress with an inverted sweetheart neckline. And shimmering on her forehead, peeking out from behind a curtain of dark bangs - a symbol which looked very much like a stylized "P". The emblem of Pluto. The symbol that proclaimed her the Sailor Soldier of said planet. "The Sailor Crystals were taken, so how can this be?"

"It's a different power," said Mamoru. He came up behind Usagi and placed a gloved hand on her back. His fingers stroked her exposed flesh. "A new kind of power."

"But no less power_ful_," Usagi responded absently. Then her brain flipped over inside her skull. Gushy grayness instantly solidified into polished chrome. She could feel all the little neurons and whatnot whizzing around up there, each one fully re-charged and sparking with electricity. She felt razor sharp, ready to go.

Fearless was perhaps an even better description. "And if we're going to fight back, the time is now." She faced the assembled congregation in such a way that placed the Sailor Princesses group on her left and the people she'd come to think of as "the supporters" on her right. She and Mamoru stood juxtaposed between the two clusters like intermediaries. "It's time we all make a stand. It's time we all have a little faith in our own powers."

Her words did not seem to register with anyone, so she elaborated.

"What I mean is, I'm going to seek out Death Phantom. And when I find him, I intend to punish him."

There was a beat of contemplative silence. And then Yoshiko spoke up. "So when you say 'all', does that mean you want _us_ to …. to go with you to fight the bad guy and save the world?" She laughed abruptly, nervously, as if to underscore how ridiculous the very notion was. "Is that what you're saying? Because I-"

Usagi nodded and the smirk on Yoshiko's face went bye-bye.

"You're not serious."

Usagi nodded again.

"Well, I … I don't think…." Yoshiko sighed and looked down. "Look, here's the deal. It's not that I don't appreciate what it is you're going to do. I do. It's just that, well, I have Isamu to consider and…" One of her hands went automatically to her child at her hip, as though she were confirming he was still there and that his rescue from the school hadn't been an elaborate hoax or something. "God, how can I say this without coming across as a coward? I…" She jiggled Isamu. The boy cooed. "I can't go with you. I wish you guys the best of luck, I really, really do, but I'm no superhero. I wouldn't last a minute up against that guy." Yoshiko attempted a smile. "I'd fall over dead within the first minute."

On hearing this, Rei took a step forward, joining Usagi. A soft tumble of wind swept between the two sides. It caught Rei's long hair up in its flow and sent it swirling about her face like a tornado. "There are worse things than dying," she said cryptically. She spoke this softly, like she was trying to convince herself of the validity of her own statement.

Yoshiko looked darkly amused. "Really? Like what?"

"Like living with regret," Rei promptly answered.

Somewhat shocked, Yoshiko took a step back. She laughed again and opened her mouth to make some kind of challenging statement, but snapped it shut almost immediately. There was a fire burning behind that girl's eyes. A fire that would not tolerate dissenting opinions. She could see it plain as anything, flickering along the edges of the pupil, outlining the black disk in glints of yellow. A reflection of the stormy skies? Perhaps. But Yoshiko thought it best not to argue. Just to be on the safe side.

"I understand your concern," Usagi said, "so I won't force any of you to come with us. But I do think we'd stand a better chance if we all did this thing together. It's time we fight back. It's time we look the enemy in the eye without fear. It's time to put all of our regrets behind us and fight for the future we want to see happen. And that's something that can't be done alone."

Apparently, everyone else felt differently, for they would not meet her gaze when she made it a point to look at each person individually. As her line of vision swept over the people standing before her, they would suddenly find some part of the surrounding scenery particularly intriguing – the grass, a nearby tree, the sky – and continue to inspect with intense scrutiny until after the eyes of the Princess had moved on. Or they became aware of some lint ball on their clothing and spent the next few minutes trying to pick it off.

In the end, only three people returned her eye contact: Naru, Gurio, and Shingo.

"I'm up for a good fight," said Shingo with a wink.

Naru shrugged lackadaisically. "What have we got to lose?"

"I think our odds _have_ improved somewhat," Gurio hypothesized. He adjusted his oversized glasses with pinkie extended before adding in a low voice, "…if only by the tiniest fraction of a percentage."

Bowing slightly at the waist, Usagi thanked them for their courage. She made an effort to control the disappointment in her voice but feared she failed at it. Three people out of 200 plus? So much for charismatic leadership. It was disappointing that she hadn't swayed more people to join in, to take a stand, but she tried to put herself in their positions. They were tired. She could understand that. And although newly hopeful, they were still afraid. She could understand that, too. The odds might have tilted slightly in their favor with the rebirth of the Mystical Silver Crystal, but death was still a very real possibility. It was going to be a tough fight. No sense denying it. Victory was not assured. Nothing was. Either they would win and take back the city, or they would die at the hands of Death Phantom. Those were the only two possible outcomes. Total victory or total annihilation.

But they were going to win. Usagi knew this as a certainty. They were going to win because they had to. Because this upcoming battle would be the most important in her career as a Sailor Soldier. This time, she wasn't just fighting just for the sake of earth's survival. Now the stakes were even higher.

Now she was fighting for the preservation of the past.

For the continuation of the present.

And for the sake of a future that had yet to pass.

So much was riding on this. Understandable, then, that a few people might be hesitant to become personally involved.

_But they already are,_ Usagi's mind protested. _Ignoring something and hoping it will go away won't solve anything! Whether they know it or not, their lives and the lives of every other person on the planet and the lives of all the people yet to be born are dependent upon our success here and now. _

But she ignored these internal protests and began to walk. Shingo on her left, Mamoru at her right, she began to walk. The Princesses followed close behind, their gowns flapping in the breeze. Luna, Artemis, and Deimos brought up the rear of the royal procession while Naru and Gurio remained a few steps behind.

As the cavalcade rounded the fence and stepped off the soccer field and into the city streets, Usagi thought she heard something like a woman muttering under her breath. It was hard to discern the words, but it sounded something like, "Might as well."

Usagi looked back over a shoulder and wasn't too terribly surprised by what she saw.

Everyone was following. With Yoshiko leading the way.

…

Tokyo first, then Japan proper. Then the world.

Baring the interference of any unforeseen complications, Death Phantom expected total worldwide conquest sometime within the next week or so. This was neither a dream nor wishful thinking. It would all happen as he had foreseen it. From Tokyo, the Clan would advance through the rest of the country at a geometric rate, capturing it completely in the next twenty-four hours. From there, the plan was to move east, making a short stop at Hawaii before taking the California coast. With the United States under their control, the other major powerbrokers of the world would fall quickly into line.

They would be given a choice: join the family or die.

You had to give them a choice. It was just the right thing to do.

Beneath his cowl, rotten teeth clacked together in what would've been a smile had he any lips. Nothing could stop them. Nothing could stop _him._ Sitting cross-legged upon a throne of rubble, he looked out over his new followers and reflected upon his life. At how far he had come. It was like a cosmic rags to riches story: a highly imaginative, highly-advanced-for-his-age genius child born to unresponsive, intellectually retarded parents – looked over by the school system, looked down upon by his peers. A tragic, tragic sort of tale. But then. Oh, but then!

He laughed softly.

If only his parents could see him now. Fools, they were. They had never appreciated him. They saw him and his great feats of academic achievement, but their tiny, reality-TV addled brains prevented them from seeing how special their boy really was. The idiots. The blubbering Mrs. Yomata who could do nothing but act out the role of dutiful housewife with a sleepwalker's devotion. Do you want a side of bacon with that waffle, honey? And his father, the well-respected Mr. Yomata who valued his fantasy football picks over his own flesh and blood, who feigned interest in his son only because he had some vague notion that that was what fathers were supposed to do, who only spent time with him and took him out to movies in the erroneous hope of some father / son bonding time because-

No. He would think no more of this. He had grown up under horrible conditions and was now a king with a great army at his disposal. That was all that needed to be said. He would not grant his parents the privilege of them being in his thoughts. He had discarded their name for him, Satoshi Yomata. He was now Wiseman. Death Phantom. True servant of his master, the god Chaos.

_I have scoured the cosmos looking for my humble warrior and have finally found him. Satoshi __Yomata, the one now known as Death Phantom. For the first time since eternity I can finally say in all truthfulness that he is my servant, I am his Master and I am fully pleased with him._

Such praise! His god and master was _fully pleased with him. _At the remembrance of this statement, Death Phantom's bulbous eyes misted over and a pang of humility wrenched the black pit of his heart. Why him? Out of all the trillions of humans and aliens scattered throughout the universe, why him? What had he done to garner such undeserved attention?

He was unworthy. So unworthy! The grateful tears now streaming down his face, Death Phantom opened his mouth to express his feelings of inadequacy to his master but stopped short. Something had just happened - a massive surge of energy strong enough to create a ripple effect of sorts in the psychic continuum. He felt it as a dull pain pressing down on the center of his forehead. Just one quick blip of discomfort and then nothing.

Could it be? Was it somehow possible?

He hoped so.

But he had to make sure. Placing his hands atop the smooth class of his crystal ball, he took a heavy sigh of a breath and opened the Evil Eye. Through its golden gaze and with the crystal ball focusing the vision, he was able to go directly to the source of the power surge, was able to view the scene from a shadow's perspective.

It was her. Just as he had suspected.

He saw her from behind, inexplicably dressed in a gauzy white gown, her blonde hair now flowing white – the flaxen pigment most likely broken by the incredible swell of energy that had traveled through her body. He saw the others, seven scrub-faced teenage girls dolled up in glittering dresses like they were headed to prom, and a male he recognized as the former Tuxedo Mask, who had apparently traded in his standard black penguin suit for a bedazzled purple one.

Interesting. Wraithlike, Death Phantom glided directly in front of the girl Usagi. She was talking now and staring straight through his shadow form. She couldn't see him. She had no idea he was standing just before her eyes. Watching her from afar. He could make out a few words, (something like "the time is now", "it's time to make a stand") but he wasn't concentrating on her little impromptu speech. The glowing object in her hands was far more intriguing.

It was the Silver Crystal. Evidently, she had used it to gain access to a new power phase. Not Sailor Moon, but something else….

_She has assumed the mantle of Princess Serenity. _

Death Phantom gasped in surprise, almost losing the vision. _My lord! _He bowed low atop the rubble heap, his palms upraised to the sky.

_The power of the Princess is even greater than that of Sailor Moon. Tread carefully, my servant._

_But how is this possible, may I ask? I held the Silver Crystal in my hands! She gave it to me, yet I did not-_

_Its power has been reawakened. Now she means to do battle with you._

Snickering a little at the thought, Death Phantom shrugged off the Master's comment. _If it's a battle she wants, then a battle she'll get. She's only a child, after all. A mere girl-_

_AND YOU ARE QUITE THE CHILD YOURSELF! _interjected the Master, suddenly furious. _Do not for one second underestimate the girl, _boy. _She has the power to undo everything! She must be stopped. Permanently._

Abashed, Death Phantom could barely form the thoughts for an apology. _Forgive me. I did not mean to speak out of turn._

_Just stop her, dear servant. Kill her and grind the Silver Crystal to dust. That is all I ask. Carry this out in my name and do not fail me. It would be unfortunate to find that my faith in you has been misplaced. Do not fail me._

_Never. I'd rather die first, _Death Phantom replied.

But the Master was already gone.

He had offended the Master. At the implication that he might fail in his mission, Death Phantom's mood plummeted like a stone cast into a well. Jubilance gave way to depression. The Master had suggested that maybe he wasn't the "humble warrior" after all – that maybe the Master had made a mistake appointing him as second in command.

No. He would prove himself somehow. He would win back the Master's favor.

A tingle of excitement worked its way through decaying bones. He would give the Princess as a sacrifice! He would present her head to the Master upon a golden tray! Surely with that done, all past offenses would be forgotten. Yes. He could picture it now – the line of decapitation clean and even, the silver hair matted with blood, the blue eyes quite lifeless….

Ha! Princess Serenity? Ha! He welcomed the battle. He looked forward to it. In their prior talks, the Master had described Sailor Moon as a formidable adversary, a neigh invincible warrior. That might have been true in the past, but Death Phantom had encountered a completely different kind of person in his spats with the girl Usagi. Weak. Timid. Afraid. The two girls, Usagi and Sailor Moon, did not seem compatible with each other. But now that was different. Now that she had assumed this role as "Princess Serenity", maybe she would live up to the hype.

Now, after all this time, after two long years of patient waiting, he was at last going to have his chance. He was going to look this invincible warrior in the eye and watch her writhe and beg for mercy. She was going to cry out his name but would only get past the first few syllables before the rising blood in her throat reduced the rest of the name to senseless gurgles. And then he was going to kill her with his own hands.

Oh, how magnificent it would be! But as perfect as his imagination was, surely the actual event would be intensely more satisfying.

"Sailor Nemesis?"

She appeared at once. Good dog. "Yes?"

"Your old friends are attempting one last show of resistance. Kill them all. I want them dead before they enter my field of vision. Understand?"

Sailor Nemesis nodded vigorously. Her hands clenched tight around her scythe.

"I would very much like it if you were able to deliver the Princess to me alive, but I'm resigned to other alternatives. If she proves too much of a hassle alive, deal with her the same as the others."

She nodded.

"Now go. And don't fail me." Death Phantom rested his chin upon a bridge of fingers. "It would be unfortunate to find that my faith in you has been misplaced."

Sailor Nemesis shook her head in vehement denial that she would ever do such a thing. It was a little like watching a marionette jerk about. Her earrings of Black Poison Crystal slapped her cheeks. "I won't fail you," she insisted. "I'd rather die first."

Then, after a quick pat on the hand, she leapt into the sky and was gone from sight.

Beneath his hood, Death Phantom smiled.

…

Using the hovering Black Poison Crystal monolith as a navigational beacon, Usagi led a group of more than two hundred people through the darkened streets of Tokyo. It could have been a parade, except all the would-be spectators were lying dead somewhere. Occasionally the group passed a droid or two milling about, but the creatures paid them no heed. They did not engage in combat, nor did they give any indication at all that they even noticed the flock of non-marked humans strolling by.

As far as they were concerned, the battle was over. The war had already been won.

Then, with the Azabu district a few blocks behind them, Chaos made its presence known once more. It spoke to Usagi and only Usagi, taunting her telepathically – urging her back from the course she had set.

_Your tenacity is to be admired, I'll say that much for you. This cause of yours is pointless, yet you insist on proceeding forward. I admire your persistence. However, you do realize your efforts are but exercises in futility, don't you? Or are you so misguided?_

Usagi continued on, her head held high, saying not a word. She would not be baited.

_Silly little Princess, what is it you hope to accomplish here? What is it you hope to do to me? I cannot be defeated. Surely you must know this by now. I am an invincible force of nature – as elemental to the universe as fire or water. As earth or air. I carry out my duties. I fulfill my purpose, and that purpose is to uncreate that which has been created. It is in my nature to destroy. Does that make me evil in your eyes, then, Princess?_

Up ahead, the tower of Black Poison Crystal was growing larger, dominating the sky and the few still-standing buildings. It hung like a diseased black cloud above the city, bloated not with rain, but with curses.

_When a tornado sweeps the land, killing all those in its path, does that make the wind evil? Are the waters that spawn a tsunami wicked? Am I any worse than these? I am not evil, Princess. You serve the light. I serve the dark. We are neither good nor bad. We have our roles and we act them out as best we can._

Usagi did not reply. _Was_ she merely an agent of some otherworldly force? Was some Great Other manipulating her actions – moving her around like a pawn on a chessboard? She pondered these questions briefly and came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. The forces of Light. The forces of Dark. These concepts held no meaning for her now. All she knew was what she had to do – be it right or wrong, light or dark.

Then Chaos asked the question she herself had been asking since this whole thing had begun: _Will the future, as you know it, come to pass?_

Though she did not favor it with a response, Usagi took the question to heart. _Will the future, as you know it, come to pass? _Those words, that one haunting question, rebounded in her head like the echo of a high-pitched scream. Once upon a time, the future had seemed so clear, its coming so certain. Now everything was cloaked in darkness. Was it going to occur as foretold? Or would there be no future for her past tonight? Difficult questions, to be sure, but Usagi surprised herself with an answer.

_I've been looking too far ahead, _she realized. _I've been worrying so much about the future that I haven't been paying attention to the here and now. That's where I messed up. And that's what I'm going to make right. I will make the future in the present with my friends beside me. I won't give up. _

Lightning flashed, startling everyone but Usagi.

_Turn back, Princess, _Chaos suggested. _Enjoy what time you have left. Die with dignity. _

When she failed to answer back, there came about a sudden gust of wind, as if the planet itself was sighing. _Fine, then. Continue running your race. You'll fall long before you reach the finishing line. I tried to help. I tried to warn you. Don't hold me responsible for what comes next._

Then, immediately following Chaos' grim farewell, a hand seized Usagi's wrist in a painful vice. Stunned, she let out a tiny squeal before realizing it was Mamoru who had grabbed her.

He held up a hand and signaled the others to stop. This gesture was picked up by Artemis, who repeated it.

The slow-moving crowd grounded to a halt.

Instinctively, Usagi sucked in a lungful of air. She preformed a quick scan of the area. Nothing overtly suspicious. Just a bunch of wrecked storefronts. The charred husks of cars. No droids, no nothing. The great white light of the Silver Crystal illuminated every shadowy spot on the block capable of camouflaging an enemy. There was nobody there. Nobody that Usagi could see, anyway.

"Mamoru? What's going on?"

He only pointed.

Usagi followed his finger and found Sailor Nemesis, Hotaru, represented as a black speck atop a distant overpass. Though much of the detail was lost due to distance, there was no doubt as to who it was. Usagi remembered the silver glint of the Reaping Scythe very well. Sharp and deadly, capable of slicing through a thin hair or a thick neck.

"Quite the following you've amassed!" Hotaru shouted. She must have been screaming, but by the time her words reached Usagi's ears they were little more than whispers on wind. "It's amazing what you can do with a few hopeful lies and a bunch of people desperate enough to believe them!"

Though it was probably pointless, Usagi tried to reason with her. It wouldn't work, she knew that, but she had to say _something. _"Hotaru, please! Let's talk! We can do that, can't we? Just talk?"

"-though God knows _I_ followed you all those years," Hotaru continued, "so I guess that says a lot about me…"

"We can work this out! Whatever it is you're going through, we can overcome it! I know we can! But we have to be able to talk about it first!"

A beat of silence. Then: "Are you going to give me a hard time? Do I have to play hard ball with you?"

Usagi frowned up at Mamoru. He could do nothing but offer her a supportive pat on the arm.

Up on the overpass, Hotaru laughed and when the sound of it reached Usagi's eardrums, it hadn't diminished in the slightest. "Dead or alive. Those were the only restrictions Satosh gave me when dealing with you." Another burst of girlish giggles. "That leaves me a lot of wiggle room, wouldn't you say?"

_Keep her talking. _Usagi had the very distinct notion that something was building up – like the first few gusts of wind before a big thunderstorm – a subtle prelude, and that if she could just keep Hotaru talking, maybe they could buy some time to come up with some kind of plan in the meantime. Some kind of a way to turn her back into the person she used to be. The old Hotaru, in other words.

A picture began to form in Usagi's mind at the thought, a mental picture taking the form of a distant memory. She saw her as she had been: a sweet, yet painfully shy girl of 12-ish, dressed head to toe in black, skin white as alabaster and hair black as midnight. A modern day Snow White. The old Hotaru – the girl whose smiles were always a little sad and whose laughter was a rare treat to the ears. Then the image began to warp into something else. _Someone_ else. The simple black sweater / skirt combo melted together and formed a bodice of vinyl, coupled with a pleated mini. The black leggings became black stiletto boots. Then the face changed, and that was the worst of it. That angelic face with the lonely eyes and the tiny line of a mouth grew angry. The eyes turned smoky and cruel. The red painted mouth was smiling, but with a mocking, sadistic sort of humor. It was no longer Hotaru. This …. this obscenity went by another name: Sailor Nemesis.

"Nemesis!!"

Usagi did not hear the cry. Nor did she take note of the dark eruption immediately following. She didn't notice the light of the Silver Crystal being consumed by the darkness. She was thinking about Hotaru. And where they had gone wrong. Had it been gradual, this transition to darkness? Or was it the result of one single thing, the final straw, so to speak? Usagi tried to recollect all the time she had ever spent with Hotaru and was shocked to discover that it didn't amount to much. Much of their dealings with each other in the past had been over tactical meetings at either Rei's or Makoto's. And with the newfound peace they had enjoyed following the defeat of Galaxia, there had been less and less reason for the gang to get together…

When looked at from that angle, it could be argued that all of this was her fault. Usagi's. If only she had spent more one-on-one time with Hotaru. If only she had made it a point to tell her how much she valued their friendship. Maybe if she had done that, things would've turned out different.

Up on the overpass, Sailor Nemesis, Hotaru, whatever you wanted to call her, uttered a short scream of a laugh and raked her scythe low, leaving a trail of wriggling blackness in its wake.

_"Plague Harvest!"_

Lost in her own thoughts and private regrets, Usagi neither saw nor heard any of this. Her mind was in the past, cataloguing the "if only's". If only she had spent more time with the girl. If only she had kept the lines of communication open. But why stop there? As long as she was chronicling past mistakes, why not go all the way?

If only she had been able to save her parents.

"-sagi, move!"

If only she had been able to save Motoki. If-

"MOVE!"

The sound of two hundred people screaming at once yanked her back to the present. And the hands that were suddenly around her waist yanked her back physically. She was flung backward, nearly tripping on her gown. She saw Mamoru as a swirl of purple with Artemis close behind him, a blur of white. And it was Artemis who her flailing arms grabbed on to.

"Get her out of here!" Mamoru shrieked. "Now!"

Only half alert, a part of her still exploring the past, Usagi did not understand at first. Then she heard it. A curious droning sound, not unlike the gritty hum of old machinery, growing louder by the second. Then she saw it. A writhing, wiggling cloud of … of …. bees?

"Locusts!" Gurio's squeal distinguished itself above the clamor, thanks in no small part to his rather unique voice, a nasal high-pitched warble that wasn't particularly pleasant to the ears.

Locusts, then. And millions of them. Millions upon millions, obscuring the world beyond in a gray fog. The flapping of all those wings at once sounded to Usagi's ears like the dreaded buzz of a dentist's drill. Though had she the luxury of choice, she would have gladly swapped her current location for that of the dentist's pump chair. At least there you could expect a nice candy afterwards.

Artemis was yelling something at her and attempting to push her to safety as he did so, but Usagi brushed off his concerns with a smile. She had come too far to turn tail and run.

So, still smiling, she closed her eyes and lifted the Silver Crystal high overhead.

…

"Locusts!" Gurio screamed, and Naru knew better than to question his word. Those gigantic glasses of his probably had more magnifying power than the Hubble space telescope. Yet, propelled by equal parts fear and good old-fashioned morbid curiosity, she felt her head turning so that she, too, could get a good look. And what she saw stole the breath from her lips. Apparently, Gurio had failed to elaborate on one tiny aspect: the insects were armored. Just like the knights of an Arthurian fairy tale, these things were fully decked out for battle engagement. Their tiny bodies gleamed in gold breastplates and leg coverings. Their tiny heads were similarly protected by helmets with antenna openings. And balanced in their stubby, fragile hands, about the same size as those tiny umbrellas posh bartenders sometimes stick in mai tais – javelins. Not an especially threatening weapon given the size, but with so many of them... Well, suffice it to say that Naru had no difficulty imagining herself as a giant, fleshy pincushion.

Escape. Safety. Danger! These words flashed through her mind as if they had been projected up on a viewing screen. She had to get away, find safety, yes, but where? The street was far too narrow, too clogged with wrecked cars to allow for any kind of offensive maneuvering. There were alleyways, narrow passageways between the buildings, but it would take time to make a run for them, and like the street, they were too narrow to allow for mass escape.

In short, they had nowhere to run. In essence, they were already dead.

Something slammed into Naru from behind. Someone's flying appendage, most likely. It sent her stumbling forward, right into another someone's elbow. Pain tore through her nose as it shattered upon impact. Blood spurted from both nostrils in a tidal rush, staining the front of her blouse a bright crimson. Somebody new stepped rudely on her foot before pushing her aside to make their escape.

The previously composed crowd had totally degenerated into screaming abandon.

Blinking through the pain, snorting back the blood, Naru pushed her way through the horde of hysterical bodies, looking for one person in particular. And all the while, the buzzing grew louder, the battalion of locusts nearer.

Oh, she'd been a fool to come. Now that it was too late, she regretted the decision. That woman, that Yoshiko, had had the right idea. They were all going to die no matter what any of them did, so why had they left the soccer field in the first place? At least there they had been together and had found a sense of comfort in their togetherness. Death had been certain even then, but they had resigned themselves for it. Now they had hope – hope, which is sometimes cruel because more often than not, it leads to disappointment.

Why had they left? Why had they forsaken their peace with death to pursue this pointless gallivanting?

Perhaps Usagi had the answers.

Then, as if in answer to her silent prayer, Naru breached the final layer of the screaming crowd and there she was, standing straight and regal, looking like a pillar carved from ivory: her best friend, Usagi Tsukino, the Moon Princess. Naru shook her head at the thought. No matter how many times she said it to herself, it just wouldn't click into place. She was standing next to the white-haired man that had been a cat –

Insane laughter threatened to bubble up just then, but Naru swallowed it down like a psych ward pro. Cats turning into people, magical crystals … the scary thing was that it all sounded so natural. For all she knew, it was a coping mechanism. _Well, one thing's for sure,_ Naru decided. _If by some miracle I survive this night, I'm sending my therapy bills to Usagi._

But that was a humorous thought and levity had no place here.

"Usagi!" Naru yelped the name like an injured puppy. Now fully aware of the incessant buzzing and of the Locust's close proximity, she made a quick grab for one of Usagi's arms.

_Bzzzzzzzzz!! _

She could feel it in her chest, that horrid sound, vibrating the bones deep within.

_Bzzzzzzzzz!!_

Her teeth rattled loosely in her mouth.

"Usagi! We're going to die! Why are you just standing there? We're going to-"

Then her friend turned and favored her with the prettiest, most serene smile she had ever seen. It calmed her intensely, that smile and the eyes above it. Then the lips parted and these comforting words flowed from between them: "Don't be afraid." Three simple words forming a simple, reassuring sentence. And Naru instantly felt herself relax. It was strange. Had those words been spoken by any other person, she doubted that they would have had the same effect. But with Usagi speaking them, it was almost like an incantation.

With a wink, Usagi faced ahead again – bravely staring down the oncoming insect horde. They were close now. Only feet away. Naru saw them clearer than ever. They were huge; ten times the size of ordinary, _natural_ locusts and they had teeth. She could see that now as well. As if the armor and the mini-javelins hadn't been enough, now they were the size of pigeons and had teeth. Sharp teeth. Row upon row of them. Like sharks.

They descended in a v-formation.

Naru saw them coming for her (directly for her in particular, it seemed) and still, she was not afraid. But she _was_ surprised by the brilliant light that followed soon thereafter. It flashed from somewhere beside her and at that instant, all was lost behind a veil of white. It appeared like two hands formerly together in prayer, now parting, like a gate opening wide, like a chest lid lifting. Like an oyster revealing its pearly treasure. The light seemed to have originated from Usagi's location, but soon spread from its starting point like flowing water. It rippled past Naru, blocking the buzzing creatures from view and then wrapped around her and continued on behind. Within seconds, the light had condensed into a glowing protective dome – protecting not only Naru, but also everyone else who had ventured alongside her with the Princess as their guide.

It was bright inside the dome, but not glaringly so. A quietness had fallen, a silence broken only by faint thudding sounds as the locust monstrosities slammed up against the shield. They penetrated it easily enough, but as they passed through the barrier of light, their bodies transformed. Changed. From living tissue to pure light. Streaks of it fell upon the awed assemblage like electric raindrops. One struck Naru painlessly on the cheek. Another burst apart in her hand, spewing glittering light-shards through the spaces between her fingers.

Belatedly, Naru became aware that the screaming that had given way to stunned silence had since transformed again, this time into laughter. Everyone was laughing and Naru's lips curled up in automatic response. Behind her, the two boys, Frankie and Isamu frolicked gaily; their mouths wide open with the intent of catching a streamer on their tongues. Naru giggled at the sight and felt compelled to join them. So, with all the glee of a child caught up in a snowstorm, she hopped right in between the two children and jumped high in the air, intercepting a streamer. It hit square in the mouth and broke apart on her face in a dazzling shower of sparkles.

Naru screamed out in childish excitement and shook her head furiously, sending shards of light radiating out from her hair like a halo. Then she turned her head just slightly and saw Usagi again. And the smile dissolved from her face. The laughter died a quick death. Naru's shoulders slipped a notch, as if a heavy weight had been placed there.

They owed her so much. How many times had she saved them all? Naru mentally counted off the instances. She had saved them from the locust horde, she had saved that boy Isamu from those sand creatures in the school, and most importantly, she had saved them all from their own despair. They owed her so much for all that she had given them, yet what offering could they bring to the table besides their simple allegiance?

Leaving Frankie and Isamu behind, Naru made her way next to Usagi. Just as she reached her friend's side, the dome vanished – much to the disappointment of the children who groaned their displeasure.

"Usagi?"

She did not respond. Her eyes remained focused ahead, searching for something. Naru followed her gaze and saw nothing.

"Usagi?"

A name followed then, one that Naru did not recognize. Three syllables, spoken soft and with a tender kind of regret that nearly broke Naru's heart.

"…Hotaru."

…

_That witch! _Thwarted for the second time in less than an hour's time, Sailor Nemesis fled from the scene of her latest failure without a backward glance. They were mocking her and her miserable ineptitude, she was sure of it. Usagi, Haruka and them. She could practically hear them in her head. _Why, Hotaru, child, what's the matter? Can't you kill us? Is that too difficult a task? Poor thing. _Followed by a chorus of laughter.

Returning to Satoshi without completing the mission was out of the question. She had lost her one opportunity to gain the upper hand and win his favor. The Silver Crystal. That cursed stone! The bane of her suffering.

Sailor Nemesis continued to run, her high-heeled boots clacking out a mad rhythm on highway pavement. She ran without a set destination in mind. She couldn't turn back and try again and she couldn't move forward. She was lost.

Or maybe not.

Coming back to herself, Sailor Nemesis took a good look around. They would be coming this way. Yes, to reach Satoshi, they would have to follow this road. And she would be waiting for them. She would get a second chance to set things right.

Her spirits lifted, she immediately set out to look for a good hiding place and found one behind an overturned tractor-trailer. It had been hauling milk to a grocery store, apparently, and had spilt nearly all its cargo. The area surrounding looked like a miniature white ocean, with the truck in the center like a sinking vessel. Not wanting to leave footprints in the muck, Sailor Nemesis bounded for the truck at full speed, then, upon reaching the ocean's milky banks, used her scythe as a spring of sorts – which catapulted her easily to a spot safe from view behind the truck's cab.

_A perfect 10_, she mused upon landing.

Now all she had to do was wait. She would catch them off guard this time. No witty introductions, no monologue speeches. Just a whole lot of broken bones and scattered corpses. Good times, in other words. Running a thumb along the rough wood grip of her scythe, Sailor Nemesis lay in wait.

They would be coming this way.

Then she would pounce. Sudden and swift. Like a –

_Hotaru Tomoe, this has gone far enough._

viper?

Sailor Nemesis dropped her scythe, her body suddenly rigid as a corpse. That voice again, inside her head. But louder this time. Stronger.

She knew this voice. It was her own. And yet…

She felt herself falling. Down and down, sinking into a cavernous blackness. Someone was calling her name. Hotaru. Hotaru. Hotaru Tomoe.

Her own voice calling her own name.

Yet it did not belong to her.

Unlike the other girls, who could transition easily between civilian and Sailor Soldier, things were not quite so simple for Hotaru Tomoe. When she transformed, she _transformed _– surrendering her consciousness to another outside force. Upon uttering the morphing phrase, the girl that was Hotaru took a back seat and the Sleeping Other took control of the show. Only rarely did she ever transform. She didn't like the feeling that came along with it. It had always felt to her a little like being in a coma; one where you could see what was happening across the hospital room, but remained helpless and paralyzed despite the ability of your eyes to still function.

The two forces, Hotaru and her Other, existed as two independent entities. Separate and whole upon themselves.

But somehow, the Sleeping was barging in – attempting to subvert the Waking.

The voice calling her name, the thing dragging her down into the dark well – she knew the culprit. Knew her very well indeed.

Sailor Saturn.


	25. Chapter 24 part I

Chapter Twenty-Four, Part 1

Sailor Nemesis continued to fall, plunging ever downward into an abyss from which she might never escape. It was like a dark, haunted well, this place that she found herself in, complete with the slick, no-grip sides. And just like any haunted locale, this place had a monster to call its own. Nemesis could hear it beckoning to her from somewhere _down there – _from somewhere close below.

_This treachery of yours will come to a bad end, _the monster hissed. _Make no mistake about that. _It had a little girl voice but spoke with a curious intonation. The tone and timbre of the voice carried with it a certain world-weariness that you wouldn't have expected from your typical 7th grader.

Nearly exhausted by the effort it took, Sailor Nemesis nevertheless projected her own message back to the creature: _A bad end for _you_, perhaps. Make no mistake about that! I've grown strong. _She also knew the truth – that the thing with the little girl voice was not a child at all, but rather an ancient protective entity originating from somewhere beyond the earth's orbit. In that respect, the Sailor Saturn persona could be viewed as an alien intelligence. It also lacked form and substance, and for that it could also be thought of as a ghost.

Ghost or alien, it was most certainly a parasite. What else could you call it? It had been feeding on her for as long as she could remember, sucking the life right out of her body, showing no consideration at all for the welfare of its host.

But now the long-suffering victim had blossomed into a formidable adversary. And she would labor under these oppressive conditions no longer.

_I have the power now. _Nemesis bit down hard on her lip, mingling the red of blood with the scarlet of her lipstick. She strained. Beads of sweat broke out at her temples in a glistening pattern. She resisted. A massive Y-shaped vein sprouted to throbbing life on her forehead.

The darkness was subsiding, which would have been a blessing had it not been for the purple light that replaced it. It swelled gradually, lighting the tumbling Sailor Nemesis from underneath.

_A true warrior wouldn't run, _said the alien/ghost thing from Saturn.

By now the light had overwhelmed the darkness. Shades of violet. Everywhere, shades of violet. Pulsating like a heart.

_It's not running. It's called regrouping. Credit me with a little tactical expertise._

Using her mind as a grappling hook of sorts, Sailor Nemesis threw it out. A sharp pain struck her not a moment later at the base of the skull, signaling that it had latched on to the side of the well. Grunting, grinding her teeth so hard that, to her ears it sounded like two plies of sandpaper rubbing together, she hoisted herself up.

The purple luminance faded.

Then a new light superseded the old – a blinding white expanse, not unlike the fabled Great White Light often reported by those who claim near death experiences. Was that the case for Sailor Nemesis, then? Was she gliding through the tunnel of death, approaching the great hereafter? Had the Saturn parasite somehow tricked her?

No. It was milk. She was still alive. The white light had been the white of the spilled milk, the milk that the overturned truck had strewn about. She was back. She'd made it back.

Sailor Nemesis smiled a crocked grin that would've looked right at place in an old Archie comic book. The smile brightened her face somewhat. In that moment she looked less like the emissary of death that she claimed to be and more like the little girl she actually was. The only thing detracting from the pretty picture was the trail of blood running from her left nostril. But she paid it no mind. She had won. Score: Sailor Nemesis 1, Sailor Saturn 0. And she was keeping track. Oh, you better believe it.

Wanting to relieve her sore leg muscles, Nemesis tried to rise. Her head swam with the effort, and the world pitched forward suddenly – sending her sprawling backward on her rear. Splat. After a quick look around to make sure her fall had gone unseen, Sailor Nemesis laughed off any lingering embarrassment. She had exorcised the last of her inner demons and she felt _fine._

Her victory also brought with it a profound sense of patience that she now utilized to the fullest as she crouched behind the bulk of the tractor-trailer and awaited for _them_ to cross her path.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

And after a good fifteen minutes of silent waiting, the cord of patience snapped.

Sailor Nemesis jumped to her feet (fighting off waves of nausea) picked up her scythe and left the truck behind. They had passed her by. They had walked right on past, leaving her none the wiser. They had escaped her vengeance thanks to the meddling of Sailor Saturn. She had planned it that way. Of that, Nemesis was certain.

How long had she been out? It had only felt like a few seconds, but must've been much longer. Five minutes? Ten? Long enough for them to slip by, at any rate. Sailor Nemesis looked skyward, hoping to track the passage of time by the position of the sun or the stars, but of course saw nothing. Nothing but a flame-soaked sky. The sun, moon, and the rest of the heavenly ensemble were hidden behind a blanket of fire and smoke, nowhere to be seen.

So she had lost them. Oh, well. No big loss. There'd be another chance. And even if not, she'd already won her own personal war. After all these years she was finally rid of the parasite. No more Sailor Saturn. No more frail, helpless Hotaru. Sailor Nemesis had conquered both. And that was enough to satisfy. For now.

…

So involved was Usagi with thoughts of Hotaru that when the surrounding debris fields began to clear out, she at first took no notice. Then she happened to glance up and the sight before her sent her heart racing and clenched her throat shut. But her face retained its calm façade and her legs continued on, never breaking stride.

They had arrived. At long last, she (and those under her care) had reached the end of the road. This was to be the culmination of a long, hard night of struggle and sacrifice. The upcoming battle was to be a clash of iron wills, a struggle against two would-be rulers – one, an agent of light, the other, a disciple of darkness. This was to be the battle that decided the course the future would take.

Mystical silver versus black poison.

"So, you've come," said Death Phantom. "And with quite the tagalong band." If he was nervous or hesitant, he did not show it – not in the tone of his voice or in the posture of his body.

Usagi's face remained as stone. She was not intimidated. She would not back down. Not now. She had left the last remnants of girlhood behind. The night and all of its horrible events – the deaths upon deaths, the loss of friends and family – had tempered her resolve like steel in a furnace. She now stood before her adversary strong-willed and regal, a girl no longer. Now, this night, she had earned the right to think of herself as a woman. "We come before you as masters of our own fate," she said, her voice hard as polished rock. "We refuse to sit idly by and be subject to your dictatorship. Tonight we take control of our lives and our destines. We're ready to fight and willing to die."

Silence. The two combatants stared down the other from across their arena, a six-way pedestrian crossing flanked all around by still-standing skyscrapers. The edifices towered upward, majestic wonders of modern architecture. Usagi took note of their sleek construction of glass and metal, free of neon, and determined that they had arrived in Tokyo's business section. The buildings here looked enormous, made all the more imposing due to the fact that most of the city had burned flat to the ground. Only this small dark cluster remained – looming over the crowd gathered like silent witnesses to the upcoming fray. But as large as they were, the Black Poison Crystal dwarfed them all.

It hovered a few scant feet above the ground, rotating slowly in place, showcasing

its many dark faces. It reached high into the sky, bypassing the roof of the tallest skyscraper by a length of several stories. Its tip seemed to pierce the very fabric of the sky. It was a black monument of evil, its black surfaces marred only by occasional flashes of color. A blip of faint red here, a shimmer of yellow there. The Sailor Crystals encased within winked at Usagi, as if acknowledging her, as if pleading for help.

And sitting cross-legged at the base, Death Phantom. His crystal ball rested on his lap and his hands remained in constant orbit around the misty sphere, as though he were tugging information from it.

Silence.

Then: "So you've come with the intent of altering your destinies. To change the unchangeable, what an arduous goal you've set before yourselves."

Instead of responding verbally, Usagi reached out and linked hands with the men standing beside her. Her right hand found Mamoru, her left enfolded within Shingo's grip. It continued on from there, with Shingo taking Naru's hand and Mamoru taking Artemis'. And so on and so forth. Within minutes, the entire group, all 200 plus, were united via the joining of hands. But it went deeper than that. There was something else that came along with, or resulted from, the physical touch: a sense of true, complete unity. But it was even more than that. It felt as though their souls were one. They were no longer just a ragtag collection of like-minded survivors – they had achieved amalgamation. Usagi fancied she could even hear the thoughts of those standing with her. And why not? For she had joined together with these people, considered them all to be her family, and more than that, believed them all to be extensions of herself.

They stood like an impenetrable blockade of humanity, more than two hundred strong, acting as a single invincible unit.

Death Phantom stood with a rustling of fabric – a movement so elegant it seemed to be happening in slow motion. The crystal ball followed its master up, coming to a stop chest-level. "You have your followers and I have mine."

At this, the shadows came alive. Blackness separated from blackness. The surrounding darkness took on humanoid silhouettes.

Shingo squeezed Usagi's hand. They were surrounded. Surrounded by an army of ghosts.

"Look upon your kinsmen!" exclaimed Death Phantom, his voice shaking in the throes of villainous rapture. He swept his hands out wide like a magician performing a particularly impressive trick.

The ghosts had become flesh. Usagi saw them lined up before her in a semicircle – hundreds of everyday citizens, young and old alike, all standing against her, having aligned themselves with Chaos and the power of the Black Poison Crystal.

"I give you your brothers, your sisters, your neighbors dear! You may have refused my hand but these fine people had no such qualms. And for that, I have blessed them. For my master, the Lord God Chaos, has granted me authority to judge the souls of men and so have I done!"

He went on from there, raving like the madman he was, but Usagi heard not a word. She was staring straight ahead at the multitude of faces staring back at her. Some were old and wrinkled; others were young with the pimples to prove it. Some of those looking back at her, clothed in out of date fashions that clung a little too tightly to the frame, had obviously come from the poorer side of the tracks, while others touted their life success in crisp suits and designer jeans. They were all so different – this odd conglomeration of faces and bodies. But as different as they were, three things remained constant across the line: One, each had the mark of the Black Moon upon their foreheads. Black and inverted, a decorative blasphemy against the White Moon Kingdom. Two, each earlobe present sported a dangling pair of Black Poison Crystal earrings. The perfect evil accessory, it complemented their Marks quite nicely. And third –

Third was the expression frozen on each face. Hard and seemingly chiseled into place, Usagi recognized it immediately as a glare of utmost hatred and contempt. She knew it at once. Hadn't she been on the receiving end of such a look many times before?

_Yes,_ she answered herself. _But that was different. It's one thing to see it in the eyes of the enemy, to see it written across the face of a rebel Sailor or read it in the movements of an evil sorceress, but these people aren't my enemies. They're…_

Brothers? Sisters? Neighbors most dear?

Yes. Usagi lowered her gaze, tried to focus on the bright light of the Silver Crystal, but there was no hiding from those looks – so black and cold, so uniform across the crowd that perhaps the expression had been handed to them straight off a printing press.

Out of the top of her lowered vision, Usagi saw movement. Raising her eyes, she saw that one face had distinguished itself from the rest of the crowd and with a feeling of sledgehammer-like dismay, she found she knew that face. It was, most certainly, a neighbor most dear. It was Unazuki Furuhata and she came with all the trappings of evil: the Mark of the Black Moon, the Black Poison Crystal earrings, that look of hostility smoldering behind the eyes… All those things were present, but Usagi found that she was much more concerned by the man standing next to her.

It was Motoki Furuhata. Or at least a fairly accurate representation of him. It _looked_ like him, sure - especially if you wanted to believe it. But on second inspection, you couldn't help but notice a few things were missing. The eyes, for example. Usagi knew Motoki's eyes; they had been kind and had always sparkled with a nice guy's sense of humor. These things, by contrast, were pebbles. The eyes of a walking corpse. She'd also known his face, a face that had always been smiling or wearing an expression of concern for a struggling friend. The face next to Unazuki was nothing but a wax caricature. The skin was off. It looked shiny, not like flesh at all but like something made of plastic. The features, the eyes, nose, lips, all looked stretched as well, like the product of some botched botox procedure. Also, the Motoki stand-in lacked both the Mark and the Crystal earrings – something present on every human forehead and earlobe.

In short, it wasn't Motoki. Usagi had known this from the start. Unazuki, however, had been thoroughly duped. She had one arm hooked lovingly around the waist of the creature and looked totally at ease. Usagi opened her mouth and tried to speak, tried to ask her why. Why? Why and what and how and everything else. But there seemed to be a great disconnect between her brain and her vocal cords. She couldn't focus. The here and now seemed far away. Her grip on Shingo and Mamoru faded, and then disappeared, leaving her feeling terribly exposed. She felt as though she were in the midst of a free-fall.

First Hotaru, now Unazuki. Another friend lost to the darkness.

Would there be others?

Usagi wanted to speak to Unazuki, to probe the recesses of her mind to find out her motivations for choosing the side of Chaos, but as it so happened, Rei beat her to it.

"What've you done? Unazuki, do you have any idea of what you've _done_?" The unbelieving, shocked-to-the-core tone of the Mars Princess mirrored the color of Usagi's thoughts perfectly.

Unazuki smiled. "I know perfectly well what I've done, thank you. I was neither brainwashed into this nor forced in any way. Death Phantom gave me what you could not." She turned from the line of Princesses and ran a hand through the Motoki-imposter's hair. The thing responded robot-like, turning its face to hers and pulling its lips upward into an uneven smile. "He gave me back my brother. Maybe even raised him from the dead. Could _you_ have done the same?"

But Usagi found herself unable to answer. She was hypnotized by the black symbol peeking out from under those red bangs.

"Can't answer me, _can_ you?" Unazuki eyes flashed with sudden anger. One backward jerk of the head sent her hair flying away from the face and for one brief second, Usagi saw the Mark in its entirety and she came to realize there would be no reasoning with her. She had her brother back and she would hear no arguments to the contrary. Perhaps she had been brainwashed into this sick discipleship, perhaps not. But now that the Mark was upon her, she was beyond Usagi's power to help.

"He has given me so much and asks for so little in return – only my allegiance, only my soul." Unazuki took a step forward. The rest of the marked crowd followed closely in step. Death Phantom remained a silent spectator. Then there was fire in Unazuki's hand - blazing flames of orange licking up her arm – and even though Usagi saw, she could not comprehend.

"But I'm sure killing you would serve as a nice thank-you gesture. Wouldn't you agree?" And then, before anyone could make sense of anything else: _"Mars Flame Sniper!!!!!"_

Everything that happened next happened at once. Usagi saw it, heard it, felt it, but could make no sense of the things unfolding around her. She saw the flaming arrow shoot past her, heard somebody (Deimos?) scream, "Take cover!" and with that, their impenetrable unit was broken. The connection was lost. Shingo broke contact and went scampering off to the side somewhere. Mamoru yanked his hand free of Usagi and then he was gone too. Gone with a flutter of cape. Then other battle cries were flung into the air and the sky was alit with magic.

_"Jupiter Coconut Cyclone!"_

_"Mercury Aqua Mirage!"_

_"Venus Wink Chain Sword!"_

Pop. Bang. Hiss.

Usagi saw it all but viewed it from a distance, as if watching the scene unfold from across a room. But she saw it. Oh, yes. The light of the Silver Crystal illuminated the bedlam perfectly. It was a strange sight, the frantic dashing for cover and safety highlighted in soothing hues of white. Usagi watched, mesmerized. She saw an elderly woman, probably someone's grandma, launch herself up into the sky with a mad cackle and followed her as she came crashing down behind Luna. Luna turned to engage but wasn't fast enough. With a cry of _"World Shaking!" _and a punch to the gut, she was sent hurtling backward like an acrobat in some charming circus production. Usagi tracked her path through the sky, coolly noted that she appeared to be on a collision course with one of the darkened municipal buildings, and winched as Luna disappeared from view, having crashed through a seventh story window.

A turn of the head brought another horrific sight: Minako bound up in her own love-chains, her captor (a little boy with a buzz cut) looming over her. Usagi studied the spectacle and thought crazily: _It would make a good statue, this. Like some kind of New Age _Pieta_._ That thought shocked her, not because of its cold detachment, but because up until a moment ago, she couldn't have explained the difference between Michelangelo's _Pieta _and a plastic statuette of Chuck E. Cheese.

Beyond Minako, she caught a quick glimpse of Rei with Unazuki in quick pursuit. Though Rei was quick, Unazuki was quicker. Plus, in the event her quarry did escape, the other girl had the Mars Arrow locked and loaded, stretched taunt against the bow, just waiting for the moment of release. Then they were gone, having been swallowed up by the seething crowd.

Thunder rolled, then crashed. The sound of several people screaming at once provided instant accompaniment. Lightning smashed through the sky toward the ground in a jagged line, eliciting a new series of cries. After the lightning strikes came the snow flurries, dainty cutouts of ice sprinkling down in a pretty spiral. It would've been a lovely sight, a sight demanding a moment for silent appreciation (especially for it being Spring), but Usagi couldn't focus on the beauty through the cold. It seared through the skin straight to the bone. A debilitating chill that felt like fire on her exposed bits flesh. She could feel it eating through her bare arms and back. It was working its way to her lungs now, turning the two organs into frozen meat bags, making it harder and harder to breathe. The quick gulps of air she _did _take in came out in fluffy clouds. Her teeth chattered. Her head ached.

She felt the cold like a knife cutting into her body. She felt the earth trembling beneath her feet and heard the screams of her people ringing sharply in her ears. And all the while the mocking words of Death Phantom ringing out loud and above all else: _How does it feel to be on the receiving end?_

Theanswer? Not so good.

"Oh, Princess!" Him again. Death Phantom. "Turn your attention over this way, Your _Majesty_. You wouldn't want to miss this next bit."

She felt her head rotating around like a screw in a socket. As the head turned, her eyes took in the full scope of the pandemonium unfolding around her in superb detail. It was a little like watching a widescreen movie presentation. A panorama of pandemonium, you could say – complete with state of the art special effects and stereo sound. The marked ones, the foot soldiers of Chaos, had gained the upper hand. Or perhaps a better way of putting it would be to say that they were maintaining the hand, for the advantage had been theirs from the very beginning. It was their hand, after all. Their hand was the iron and merciless Hand of Chaos.

In any event, they were winning. With the turning of her head, Usagi saw the Black Moon Brigade (for that was what she had come to think of them as) advancing upon her own group. And though she was no war strategist, she understood at once what was going on. It was a roundup. The Brigade was pressing forward in a semicircle formation, narrowing and concentrating the opposition. In such close confines, it would be very easy to conduct mass extermination. Why, with all of them bunched together like that, all it would take would be a single attack. Just one attack, provided it was well aimed….

_No._

The cold was unbearable but Usagi fought to ignore it. The waters of shock were deep and Usagi struggled to rise above them.

_No! _

Her journey would not end in defeat. How could it after she had come so far?

Death Phantom had risen and now stood before her, an effigy of evil draped in robes of violet. Both of his hands were raised, bent at the elbows like a priest preparing to offer benediction. The skin of his arms, though deeply tanned, looked startlingly white compared to the blackness that seemed to float inside his robe like a noxious, polluted river.

"Are you watching, Princess?"

_You bet, you worthless piece of scum. Let's see this grand trick of yours. And you better make it last because afterward, we're gonna get busy, you and me. _Now that she had returned halfway back to her senses, Usagi felt nearly invincible. She felt large and wonderfully in control.

She narrowed her eyes at Death Phantom, waiting for his next little performance. What was he going to do now? Pull a rabbit out of his cloak? Ask her to pick a card, any card? What two-bit act of trickery was he going to surprise her with?

Three seconds passed without incident. Then four. Then five. Usagi proved to be the ideal observer, patient and quiet, but after seven seconds of waiting with nothing to be seen for it, she decided to go ahead and draw the curtain. The show was over. She reached out with both hands, meaning to take hold of the Silver Crystal floating before her, but stopped short. Something was happening. She could see that now. Something was definitely going on with Death Phantom.

It was his hands. His hands and his arms. They were changing. Bits of the skin were flaking off like old paint chips. Usagi watched slack jawed as the epidermis shredded itself and chipped away, revealing a gruesome network of veins running over a moldy-looking collection of black and green muscle tissue. This occurred gradually, taking the better part of 15 seconds, and when it was done, Usagi found herself looking up at the Death Phantom she had battled during her time as Sailor Moon.

A chill suddenly took hold of her and she shuddered. Little Satoshi had come full circle.

_Death Phantom, the terror of Crystal Tokyo, the reviver of crime and murder._

Usagi frowned.

_A human boasting psychic abilities. Among these unholy powers was the Evil Eye, capable of controlling others with a glance, and - - _

"Oh, Princess, you are indeed a kind and benevolent ruler. As such, you may be unaware of what I am about to tell you," Here his voice dropped and took on an even more sinister tone. "- to truly destroy your enemy, you must also destroy their legacy. Their lineage. And in so doing, you will blot even their memory from the history books. You will achieve perfect victory."

_- - and his demon hands, able to reach great distances to attack the unsuspecting._

It dawned on her all at once, his plan. It hit with such sudden realization that Usagi was sure she would simply topple over backward in a faint. _He's going after Shingo. Shingo or Mamoru. As if killing my parents wasn't enough, now he's going after Shingo. Or Mamoru. Or both. After all, he's got two hands._

Visions of Shingo as a corpse danced through her head, only to be replaced by the same vision but with Mamoru in the starring role. In each, Usagi could do naught but watch as the demon hands raced across the landscape, finally taking hold of Shingo / Mamoru by the throat. Then with a sharp squeeze and a crunch of bone, the body in question fell limp. And in each vision, Usagi fell down to her knees beside the corpse and commenced to sob uncontrollably, for now she was alone again. Truly alone and truly defeated at the hands of Death Phantom.

Then, horribly, mere seconds after envisioning them, her visions became reality.

Like striking twin blacksnakes, the demon hands of Death Phantom shot forward, racing past Usagi in a blur. They arched bonelessly up toward the sky, rolling out to a length of ten feet or more, then splintered off in two different directions. One zipped to the right, going after Mamoru, while the other darted past Usagi on the left, so close to her that her gown rustled in its wake.

Turning, she saw Shingo. He had been one of the few to escape the roundup and was now standing off to his lonesome, a look of dazed bewilderment upon his face. He looked like a small child near tears, having lost his parents in a crowded supermarket. He did not notice the hand streaking toward him. He did not realize he was moments away from death.

Usagi saw the demon hand as a black sliver. It kept close to the ground to keep out of sight, sliding over the uneven surface of highway, expertly interweaving among the feet of the Black Moon Brigade.

It had reached its target. Now it was rising off the ground, the wrist arching back like the head of an attacking cobra, the five fingers already expanding in order to accommodate the neck it would soon seize.

A squeeze and a crunch and it would all be over. The end of the Tsukino family, for Usagi herself would doubtless follow next.

Her little brother dead? No. It couldn't happen. She had already lost both parents. Hadn't that been enough? Her lover dead? That didn't sound too good either. She'd been to the future. She had seen firsthand the life they were going to live together and it was too beautiful a thing to die prematurely.

No to Shingo's death.

No to Mamoru's death.

No to it all.

_"NO!" _Usagi threw back her head and balled up her fists and screamed out resistance to the heavens. It was a cry powered by anger and righteousness and the desire for justice. It was a cry from the heart, and as such, the Silver Crystal reacted.

There was a flash of light, so bright and unexpected that it momentarily stunned Usagi. Then she understood. The Crystal followed her heart. And right now, her heart was on the offensive.

As if picking up on the change of emotion within her, the light suddenly solidified. In the blink of an eye it changed from harmless illumination to what looked like an elongated stark white saw, the massive ones Canadian lumberjacks use to cut down equally massive trees. It swept toward the demon hand poised to attack Shingo and sliced cleanly through it. Black liquid sprayed from the wound. An obnoxious odor assaulted Usagi's nose moments later, something very similar to the sour stench of lab formaldehyde.

Death Phantom screamed in surprise and (dare she hope it?) pain.

Another spray of black, the precursor to that horrible smell, followed by another scream. The demon hands rolled back, their targets still intact and, in Shingo's case, oblivious.

"Oh, dear _PRINCESS_, what _VIOLENCE_!" Death Phantom hissed the words through clenched teeth. Both injured hands lay cradled against his chest. Droplets of what Usagi supposed was blood dripped steadily from the wounds, hissing like acid upon contact with the ground. "I might corrupt you _YET_!!" He was mad. Beyond mad, actually. For the first time since meeting him, Usagi saw that he was on the verge of losing control. He was shaking with fury, his shoulders hunched, his eyes glowing red like embers beneath his cowl.

Good. Perhaps she could use this to her favor.

Usagi took a challenging step forward. "Why do you attack my friends and family when your real target is me? You say it's all part of your grand plan to erase my legacy, but I think you're just frightened. Intimidated. By me."

This observation did not sit well. It was several seconds before Death Phantom, shaking and shuddering inside his cloak, could string together enough coherent thoughts to form a reply.

"Let me assure you, O Highest Majesty, that I am not, have never been, nor ever will be, frightened or intimidated by you!" The statement came out rushed and dripping with venom. Those eyes of his blazed an even brighter shade of red, burning deep into Usagi's soul. But she did not falter. She did not cave under his evil stare. "Look around, Princess! Look at all I possess! The power of the Black Poison Crystal, the power of the invincible planet Nemesis, the power of my god-master Chaos! Why, even the power of the Sailor Crystals is mine to experiment with as I see fit. And what do you have to challenge me with? The power of friendship channeled by a shiny bauble? Ha! No, dear girl, I am not intimidated by you."

"Then prove it."

It was a challenge.

"Prove it by going up against me right here, right now. Just you and me. Surely you're confident enough in your abilities to do that?"

This seemed to amuse him. Death Phantom guffawed and the sound was like rolling thunder. "You're eager to dig your grave, but very well." He raised his hands skyward, the folds of his robe falling to the elbow. "Your best, Princess. Nothing less."

Usagi narrowed her eyes. The Silver Crystal flashed, seemingly in anticipation. "Yes," was all she said.

…

Ever since the surprise attack upon their followers and his separation from Usagi, Mamoru had been keeping an eye on her. Even entrapped and cornered by the disciples of the Black Moon, he made it a point to keep one eye trained on Usagi. Thus, he had seen the demon hand racing toward him. He had panicked, true, but then, from the corner of the Usagi eye, he had witnessed a brilliant flicker of white light and the hand retreated, wounded.

She had rescued him. Rescued him like countless times before. And seeing that, the notion struck him (and not for the first time, either) that he should leave her. For who was he to be with her? He was nothing. Nobody. A dirty commoner wallowing in all the pitfalls of humanity. She, by contrast, was a shining goddess. Merciful and kind with the powers of the cosmos at her disposal.

And who was he?

Now, wedged tightly between Artemis and Deimos, he saw the goddess confronting Death Phantom. She was a vision in white, speaking forcibly and with passion to the demon before her. And though he was too far away to make out words, Mamoru sensed that a face-off was brewing. He turned to Artemis, meaning to tell him this, when another explosion of white light halted him in mid-head swivel. This was immediately followed by another, darker flash – one so black that it seemed to suck the air out of Mamoru's lungs. Then there came a tremendous crash as the two powers collided. Windows shattered. Observers fell like bowling pins. The portion of highway closest to the two combatants shook and broke apart in slabs. Even the haughty followers of the Black Moon couldn't help but to emit sounds of startlement.

A curtain of up-spun dust veiled the two leaders from view, but Mamoru's eyes, perhaps powered by the love and concern he felt for the one he was not worthy to be with, managed to see through it. Quite clearly, he saw Usagi and Death Phantom locked in a stalemate, the powers of the Silver Crystal and Black Poison Crystal churning the air between them in a spectacular swirl of white and black. He also observed that Usagi was struggling. Her arms were heroically cast straight out without so much as a kink at the elbow, but her back was bent with strain and her eyes were slits of agony.

Seeing her like that, Mamoru's heart clamped to a stop, squirting the last few drops of blood painfully through his veins. She needed help. Now _she_ was the one who needed to be rescued.

"Usa." He felt his lips form the word as he took a step forward.

_WHOOSH._

A wall of flame blazed into existence suddenly, mere inches away from his face. Alarmed, Mamoru jumped back, his eyes inadvertently leaving Usagi for the first time in a long while.

The girl, Unazuki Furuhata, laughed at his reaction. She wiggled a flaming finger at him. "Uh, uh, uh! Let's just let them have a go at it for a while. Besides, _we_ have confidence in _our_ leader. Do you have the same for yours?"

Mamoru glared at her through his mask. He opened his mouth to order her aside but gagged on the smell of smoke. The girl reeked of it.

As if to show off her new powers, Unazuki ran her smoldering hand through her hair. Tongues of fire danced orange among the red strands. "Sucks, doesn't it? To just sit here, watching, knowing that there's nothing you can do to help her." A cavernous grin spread across the lower portion of her face. "Not one single thing."

_Oh, but there _is_ something I can do_, Mamoru thought. His eyes moved from Unazuki's gloating face back toward Usagi. _Even like this, powerless and at your mercy, there is one thing I can do._

And so, bowing his head but never averting his eyes from Usagi, he prayed.

…

Just as Mamoru was keeping his eyes on her, so too did Usagi focus her vision in on a singular point of interest. But where he was looking on to his beloved, she had in her sights the adversary. She could barely make him out over the combustive forces of the two Crystals but her eyes never wavered from his general location. A notion kept running through her mind that she should not turn away from him. That if she happened to glance away for even the briefest moment, that if she so much as blinked, he would seize that opportunity to strike like the snake he was.

So, shaking with the effort, with sweat rolling in rivers down her back and face, she continued to stare ever onward into the face of near certain annihilation.

The sensation of power running through her was incredible. It coursed through her body in crashing waves, a glorious infinite power capable of igniting suns or destroying planets. It was an amazing feeling, to be one with the Silver Crystal, to be directing it like it was merely an appendage of her own body – but it was a feeling matched only be the accompanying pain.

The pain was also incredible. No. _More_ than incredible. It bordered on the indescribable. It was both physical and spiritual. Usagi could feel it settling in her bones and grinding against the joints like sawdust. But she could also feel the pain manifesting itself as fatigue. And in some ways, in a lot of ways, the fatigue was worse than the physical symptoms. The physical hurt she could deal with, but this other … it made her question. It made her want to lay down the Crystal and give up. There were hooks in her eyes pulling them down. She wanted nothing more than to sleep. Her body, her mind, and her spirit were tired.

Still, it was to be expected. Using the Silver Crystal did not come without certain risks. Usagi knew these risks and had accepted them long ago, but ….

_But it hurts. It hurts so much!_

Had it ever hurt as much in the past? She didn't think so. Then again, two years' worth of inactivity might have dulled her recollections.

_I don't care if I die, _she swore. _Honestly I don't. But if that's what's going to happen, at least let me take _him_ with me!_

And at this stage in the game, death was a very real probability. She was expending massive amounts – lethal amounts – of Silver Crystal power. Dropping dead of a brain aneurysm, for example, could very well be a consequence of such an action. Come to think of it, wasn't her head feeling a bit strange? A little numb? A little like an aneurysm-in-progress?

_No! I won't die! _Usagi skewered her lip with her front teeth, bringing blood. She welcomed the stinging sensation. It meant her nerve-endings were still functioning. _Not until I'm sure I've won. _

But it was agony to continue.

And if that wasn't enough, there was a voice speaking to her, - a literal voice telling her to hand over the Crystal, to give up. Sometimes it called to her from far away and other times it seemed to be speaking from inside her head. Sometimes it sounded like a man's voice, other times a woman's, and occasionally it imitated Usagi's own voice so perfectly that she had trouble differentiating her thoughts from the other invading intelligence. All in all, though, it laid out a good case. _You are tired, Highness, _it whispered in soothing tones._ You have fought bravely and rescued many. Yet now the time has come to hang up your sword. Listen to your body. It begs for a second's rest. You can feel it. The ache in your arms. The blisters on your feet. How good it would be to just rest. And only for a second! Then, if you so desire, you can return to the fray. Because, dear Princess, your spirit is tireless but your body is unable to keep the pace. The spirit is ethereal - the body, flesh and bone and sinew and prone to give out. Rest. Close your eyes and hand over the Crystal. I will keep it safe._

Yes, a good case indeed. She _was_ so tired. Her body _did_ ache. Maybe … a short nap. No more than fifteen seconds. Yeah, that sounded great.

_Sure! And why stop at fifteen? Take as long as you need! I'll be sure to wake you. Just hand me the Silver Crystal and you can take that well-deserved rest._

Yes. Yes. Usagi's eyes were beginning to close already. She could feel her body relaxing. She could picture herself underneath the covers at home, snuggled in nice and warm, the scent of Ikuko-Mama's famous sugar cookies rising up the staircase in a fluffy yellow cloud. A summer afternoon. …No, a winter morning. But with the birds singing anyway. Yes. That would make it festive. The birds tweeting joyfully high above the frolicking children, bundled tight against the cold. With the Three Lights poster hanging over her bed and Luna resting by her feet and Mamoru waiting downstairs…

_It's only a yawn away, _the voice promised. _Just let me take the Crystal from you. It's a terrible burden, yes?_

"Yes," Usagi mumbled, totally unaware that she had said it.

_Yes. _

"Uh huh." Oh, she could smell the sugar cookies already! And the birds singing her to sleep! And the sound of children laughing outside!

_Rest. Relax. Take a breather._

Butthen, just before the dream took hold, Usagi caught a glimpse of something twinkling before her. It was a golden something, pulsating like a slow heartbeat, hovering just above the meeting place of the two Crystals.

What the - -? Usagi frowned and looked closer, comically wrinkling her brow in the process. It looked like … an eye. It surely did! There was the iris, normally blue or brown or sometimes green, but here it was a flaxen topaz color – and … the pupil dancing in the center, springing up and down like a black bouncy ball. Humph. Strange. An eye. A golden eye.

An evil eye, perhaps?

"NO!" Usagi screamed and squeezed her own eyes painfully shut. The instant she did so, the voice dropped all polite pretense and commenced to curse her. It shrieked inside her head, calling her all manner of horrible names, slinging out all sorts of threats. But now that she was aware of its influence upon her, she was able to tune it out for the most part. She had great experience in ignoring unpleasant voices. It was a skill she had employed a great deal during her high school career.

Once she had regained her bearings, and with the voice no more intelligent than a fly's buzzing, she found the strength to speak. Though she kept her eyes closed. "So you've resorted to trickery to gain a victory. Classy."

The voice ceased its endless screaming at once. "No, I'm only using every advantage I have," Death Phantom replied in a normal voice born of vocal chords. "I'm giving it my all, which is something you should consider doing."

Angered by the insinuation that she wasn't pulling her weight in the battle, Usagi's eyes flew open. And with her eyes now unclouded, she looked and gasped at what she saw. The light of the Silver Moon Crystal had waned. During the time she had been wallowing in that induced daydream, the darkness of the Black Poison Crystal had advanced, pushing the pure light back. Now the only area illuminated was a small circle around Usagi's feet. Panicking, she tried to push back. She strained, trying to blast the light back forward, but it was no use. Death Phantom had her matched point for point. As hard as it was to believe, the Silver Crystal and Black Poison Crystal were two equals in power.

From a world away, hidden behind the darkness, Death Phantom laughed aloud. And why not? His powers were inching forward, overtaking hers. She had slipped and now there was no way to reclaim that lost ground.

A bead of sweat wrung itself out from the skin at Usagi's hairline, rolled down her forehead, took a sharp turn at the cheekbone and then slid down the rollercoaster of her nose. It dangled from the tip stubbornly, refusing to fall. Maddening. An itch begging to be scratched.

_Just let it go, _a voice suggested – and whether it was the voice of Death Phantom or of Chaos, she couldn't tell. What did it matter anyway? They were one and the same. _We've reached the end of a path. You're tired and I'm just getting started. I could go on all night. And I won't give up. I'll keep pushing for eternity if that's what it takes. You know it. I won't stop and you won't stop. We're so alike. That's what makes it crazy. We're two stubborn fools. Except you have the option of calling it quits here and now._

She had an option? Options were good. Very good.

Maybe…

The circle of light drew in. The darkness advanced its shadows forward.

_Usa!_

Now what was this? A new voice?

_I'm here by your side! Take my strength. Make it your own. Defeat the enemy!_

"Mamo-chan?" Usagi fluttered her eyes like a kitten just waking from an afternoon snooze. "Mamo-chan, where are you? I – I hear you, but I can't see you. It's too dark."

_Don't worry. I'm here inside you. And not only me, but everyone._

And then came a chorus of heavenly voices – precious musical voices urging her onward, lending her power.

_Mercury Power! Mars Power! Jupiter Power! Venus Power! _Each proclamation was like the beat of a war drum._ Pluto Power! Uranus Power! Neptune Power! _Each was like the beat of a heart. _I am Luna of Mau, joined to the Moon Princess by the bonds of friendship and servitude – my Power, too! I am Artemis, also of Mau, joined to the Venus Princess also by the bonds of friendship and servitude – my Power added to the Silver Crystal! I am Deimos of Coronis, linked to the Mars Princess by the same unshakeable bonds – my Power to our Princess!_

_All of our power - - _

"Right here and right now," Usagi said serenely. And with that, she pushed forth with an eruption of light so massive and brilliant that the darkness fled and Death Phantom yelped with surprise.

But then he was back on track, matching her once again, resisting the light as she resisted the darkness - her goodness at a standstill with his evil. Then, with both of them silently toiling against the other, a strange thing happened. Perhaps it was a result of her friends' tremendous outpouring of power, or maybe she had just tapped into some new portion of her own abilities, but suddenly that psychic link Death Phantom had established with her was working both ways. Just as he had wormed his way inside her head, so too was she now able to peer inside _his _thoughts. And what she saw encouraged her.

Terrifying though he was, he was still a human. A boy - younger than herself by a few years. And he harbored no ill will against her personally. That was the encouraging thing. He bore no vendetta. Nor was he on some personal crusade. Usagi realized this within a moment's time of her unexpected arrival into his mind. In all honesty, he couldn't care less about her or the Silver Crystal.

Then why?

The answer was obvious. So obvious that Usagi had no need to investigate the workings of his mind further. He was doing it to please. In a perverse sort of way, he looked up to Chaos. Maybe even regarded it as a father figure. And if Chaos said kill, he killed. If it told him to lay down his crystal ball and make peace, he would do it instantly, without second-guessing the order. This was Chaos' war. Death Phantom, the boy whose real name was Satoshi Yomata – he had no stake in the matter.

Something wet struck Usagi on the cheek and for an instant, she thought that perhaps it was raining. But a quick check skyward debunked this and a moment's passing brought no more raindrops. Sweat, then? Maybe. Maybe so.

Then another wet something moistened the other cheek, just below the eye and she came to understand that she was weeping. This proved not to be a huge surprise, for she had certainly shed her fair share of tears this night, but what _was_ surprising was the subject of her latest crying spell. In the past few hours, she had wept in sorrow over the deaths of her parents, in joy over the rebirth of the Silver Crystal and in hopelessness of the impossible situation she found herself in. Now, however, she discovered that she was crying in pity. Pity for Death Phantom.

She felt sorry for him. He was just a little boy pretending to be bad, killing and maiming and torturing all in an effort to please the devil. Just a child. Just a poor misguided child. Was he arrogant? Sure. Did he have some problems of his own, apart from the meddling of Chaos? Most definitely. But then, who didn't? Sure, he was a merciless killer with a severe case of hubris, but more than that, what Usagi saw and what touched her heart, was the realization of his insecurity. He yearned for approval. He could find no redeeming qualities within himself so he sought out others so that _they_ might point out the personal strengths which he himself were blind to.

Sorrow and compassion flooded Usagi's soul. Her breaking heart served as the mixing tool. Tears streamed down both cheeks. Her breath shuddered and caught within her throat like a rusty car trying to turn over. She found it difficult to breathe, to express the words she wanted to say. But somehow she did.

"I-i-it does-does …. It doesn't have to be like this."

"Indeed," growled Death Phantom from someplace far away. "Surrender is always an option."

Usagi shook her head. "No, there's another option besides this fighting. It doesn't have to end in death for one of us and victory for the other. There _is_ another way." She especially punctuated this last sentence, hoping to drive the point home in her opponent's mind.

A short pause. Then, "_Is_ there?"

Though he was obviously being facetious, Usagi seized upon the opportunity for explanation nevertheless. She would present her proposal to him and he could take it from there. She could only do that much. She couldn't force him to accept her terms. But she could hope. With all her heart, she hoped he would.

"There is. Satoshi, you have all this power-"

Lightning slit the skies above, highlighting the wound with jagged flares of blue. The air suddenly seemed supercharged, full of static electricity. Usagi could feel the tiny hairs on her arm stand up. The sheer fabric of her gown clung tightly to her legs like a mummy's bandages.

"My _name _-."

Lightning flashed. The sound of thunder rolled like bowling balls. The air grew heavier still.

" – is Death Phantom."

Not wanting to loose ground over such an inconsequential point, Usagi simply nodded. The name didn't matter so much as the person behind it. "These powers of yours, your abilities – they're gifts. And gifts should be used to better mankind. Think about it. Think how wonderful it would be if you used your powers to help rather than to destroy. You have other options. You don't have to continue down this evil path you're on. What-" Unable to go on, she swallowed. The lump in her throat moved deeper down into the esophagus but did not disappear. "What I'm trying to say is…"

Now she found that she could see through the darkness and she gazed upon Death Phantom, at the withered corpse hidden inside the flowing robes, with warm, welcoming eyes.

"…I want you to be my friend."

Several seconds passed without reply. The figure hovering before her did not comment, nor did his posture give any sign that he'd even heard her. Usagi watched him, yearning for an outstretched hand, each minute passing by like an eternity. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She spoke again, knowing that she was in danger of overplaying her hand, yet not caring. "I _want_ you to be my friend. It would be my honor. And I mean that with all my heart and soul. Please don't turn away from this chance. You're suffering and it pains me. So please. _Please._ We can be friends. It doesn't have to end in death."

Then, almost indistinguishable from the thunder, a tiny voice spoke up. "What a sight it would be, me working alongside the Sailor Soldiers."

Could it be? Was he actually considering…. It sure sounded like it! He was testing the waters! Realizing that perhaps she had made a dent in that armor of his, Usagi nodded frantically and sped right on. "Sure! Stranger things have happened! You can join the Sailor Soldiers! You don't have to be a Sailor Soldier to actually, you know, _be_ a Sailor Soldier. A part of the team, I mean. Heck, you can keep the name 'Death Phantom' if you really like it!"

She was rambling and she knew it. But she made no effort to rein herself back. How could she even if she wanted to? This was extraordinary! A black heart was turning pure!

"You would extend to me the hand of friendship?"

_Yes! _Usagi's mind screamed in response._ I will and I have! Please take it._

"Your hand offers friendship, but mine is not so kind. Have you any idea how many people have died by _my_ hand? I won't go so far as to hazard an actual figure, but I feel safe in saying it exceeds five digits."

And so the house of cards collapsed. He had rejected her hand. Yet perhaps… Perhaps a glimmer of hope still existed. Perhaps he could be converted yet. Usagi was willing to try at least. Like a prospector mining for gold, she would not give up until she had struck successfully.

"The past isn't as important as the future," Usagi said, her eyes downcast, her voice not quite as powerful as before.

Death Phantom chuckled. "You never cease to amuse me, Princess. You and your little girl ideas. Here you are, testifying and preaching to _me_! Me, the soon-to-be-victor! Your followers have been rounded up like cattle, will soon be killed, and you along with them. Yet you offer _me _the chance to join _your_ side? I appreciate the offer, I truly do, but I have already chosen a side. The winning side."

"But you're wrong!" By now Usagi was weeping uncontrollably. Pity had metamorphosed into regret. Sorrow had turned a darker shade and was now despair. She wept with regret that Death Phantom had spat into her open hand of friendship. She had failed him, and for that she felt despair. "You're so wrong, Satoshi! This path you're on, it doesn't have a happy ending! _Please._ I've been to the future and I've seen the fate that awaits you! I've seen it with my own two eyes! I … I …"

_…I killed you once. Please don't make me do it again._

Exhausted, she allowed for her words to trail off. She could think of no other words, no further arguments that could sway.

Death Phantom remained unmoved. "What a coincidence," he said. "For I, too, have seen the future - and you were nowhere to be found in it."

_Then that's it, I suppose,_ thought Usagi sadly. _What else can I do?_

_Nothing, _an older, wiser portion of her mind reassured. _Some people, you just can't reach. Some people are so proud they won't accept any kind of help, even if it means them falling blind over a cliff._

Yes. It made sense. That part of herself – the wise, logical part – usually kept itself hidden and did not make itself known too often. But on those rare occasions when it did offer advice, it was best to listen. It was a painful truth, Usagi supposed. A painful and difficult truth to come to grips with. A sad reality for many.

"Do you want to know the truth, Your Majesty? Do you want to know what I really think?"

_Not really,_ Usagi thought tiredly. _I've had enough truths for one night._

"I despise you," Death Phantom said simply, the words coming as no surprise to the one standing before him. "You present yourself as this tower of virtue, a pillar of righteousness – when in fact you're just as dirty and common as anybody else. Even your so-called friends think so. When I looked inside them, that's what I saw. On the outside, they present themselves as the loyal servants of the Moon Kingdom, but on the inside…" He snickered, clearly enjoying this. "It's a very different story. You have to peel back the civil layers of the mind to get to it, though. But it's there. There's a great deal of animosity brewing. Take the soldier of Venus, for example. She wants so much to be a star - an _entertainer_."

Laughing, Death Phantom waved a hand through the air, as if to dismiss the seriousness of such an ambition. "A childish dream to be sure, but her heart's true goal nonetheless. And that mousy little girl, the one representing Mercury, she wants to become a doctor! Two proud dreams, never to be realized. I'm sure it's the same for the rest of your team. I'm sure they all have their own private hopes and goals. But alas, they will continue to go unfulfilled. For they have given their lives to serve you. They made a vow to you once long ago, didn't they? A vow to discard their own desires and wants so that they could devote all their service to you."

Another fit of the giggles. "So Minako will _never_ become a star. Poor little Ami will _never_ get to play doctor. They're your slaves. There's so much more to them besides this Sailor nonsense. But they made a vow. A vow that they now regret, though they'd never admit as much. But I can tell you this: they resent you. Maybe subconsciously, but they do. They resent you _so_ much."

Lies. All lies. Part 100 in a series. But… Usagi felt her lips tremble. Her mind began to wander dangerously. But if these _were_ lies, why did they resonate so powerfully within her? Could it be that, maybe just this once, he was telling the truth? No. The man (_the boy_, Usagi amended) worked in lies – customized them the way a car enthusiast might modify an old jalopy into something sleek and gleaming. Sometimes when preparing his deceitful concoctions, he might take a notion to sprinkle in a bit of truth – mingling the two so perfectly that one became indistinguishable from the other. But in the end, all was lies.

_They resent you. So much._

Hadn't she suspected as much? That very idea, that maybe she was stifling the ambitions of her friends, had crept into her mind on more than one occasion in the past. However it had proved a difficult topic to bring up. And with each failed attempt at breeching the subject, Usagi had shoved the issue aside, reasoning that if her friends were unhappy in their roles, surely they would approach her about it themselves.

And now her fears had been confirmed. They _were_ her slaves. Their unfair servitude to her was choking the life out of them. Why, if it hadn't been for her, Minako might've become a star, Ami would've probably skipped the high school level completely and gone straight on to medical school and Mamoru would be in America, pursuing his own dreams of a career in medicine.

How many other dreams had she destroyed without even knowing it?

Usagi groaned.

The light of the Silver Crystal receded.

Death Phantom cackled.

_(continued in Chapter Twenty-Four Part 2)_


	26. Chapter 24 part II

Chapter Twenty-Four Part 2

…

Sailor Nemesis was fed up. She was also tired, angry, and did not feel very much like running halfway across the city just to chase after some air-headed, pea-brained little brat whose days were numbered anyway. Whatever excitement there had been in pursuing such a chase had faded for her long ago. Now she wanted nothing more for the night to end. The sooner the better. For the sooner it ended, the sooner she could be with Satoshi.

If and when she ever caught up with the Princess (assuming of course that Satoshi hadn't already taken care of that issue himself), the end would be swift. There would be no prolonging the moment with endless gloating or torture. No. Just a quick little something – maybe a blow to the head or a severe laceration of some kind. Something creative but not overly time-consuming. And when the time came, she hoped the Princess would be a sport about it. She was in no mood to listen to whiney sermons or pleas for reconciliation. All she wanted to do was kill the Princess and her Court quickly so that she and Satoshi could get on with their lives together.

The battle staging area was just up ahead. No more than six blocks. Nemesis could feel it. She could feel Satoshi's presence. It registered deep within her like a burning flame; growing stronger and fiercer the closer she got to him. His touch was electric, his kisses, mind-blowing.

Like a novelist carefully tracking a plot, she had merrily plotted out the rest of their lives together. First they would wed. And soon. Probably within the month. It would be a big wedding. Magnificent. To be held in a massive, sprawling cathedral with arched ceilings and stained-glass windows. Then, with the guests busying themselves with conversation, the music would pay – _baa bomp baa BA!_ – silencing all talk and the back doors would open, seemingly by themselves, to reveal her standing there, dressed in an elegant white wedding gown (a stunning off-the-shoulder number which she had already picked out), holding an equally elegant bouquet. Here was where the vision got a little blurry, though. She hadn't decided on red roses or tulips. Roses were the classic flower of romance, but on the other hand, they were also a little overdone. They had reached the point of cliché. And Sailor Nemesis did not want a tawdry wedding.

Despite the ultimate choice of flower for the bouquet, the wedding would take place no matter what. Would. Period. Following that, perhaps a year or two of bliss – perhaps an extended honeymoon in Aruba or a cruise to the Pacific Islands – and then kids. They would have at least two. Maybe as many as ten. Sailor Nemesis wanted a big family. A big family to make up for the lack of one she had experienced as a child. A boy first (named Satoshi after his father) and then a girl. She hadn't decided on any girl names as of yet, however.

Marriage, a year enjoying just _being_ married, then settling down into domestic bliss with a houseful of smiling children and maybe a dog or two. It sounded like the first chapter of a truly paradisal life.

But first she would have to get through this night.

Though Satoshi was only six or so blocks away, Nemesis did not feel like walking it. So instead, she used the shadows. Through the power of the Black Poison Crystal, she was able to utilize the darkness as a means of teleportation. Here was one now – a creeping shadow attached to a ruined building's stump, black as an oil slick, running from sidewalk to sidewalk across the street. Nice and fat. It would do.

Sailor Nemesis walked calmly, unhurriedly, to the shadow's edge. She took a moment to massage the tired tendons of her neck. Then, after smoothing out her skirt and adjusting her sailor collar, she took a step forward.

On first glance, it seemed as if the spiked heel of her stiletto boot had punctured the concrete pavement. Then the flat sole disappeared – sinking gradually down into a sea of black. She took another step forward, now bringing herself fully into the shadow's caress, and it looked for all the world like she had stepped onto an elevator. She was sinking down into the street, descending quickly – the darkness obscuring her body bit by bit. First her knees, then her hips, then her shoulders … down, down, down; until finally her head disappeared, vanishing below street-level.

Half a nanosecond later, she re-appeared, perched on the windowsill of a downtown high-rise six blocks from her original location, emerging from the shadows there like some dark butterfly being birthed from a chrysalis. It took her a moment to adjust. She had left the utter silence of a deserted street for the hectic, screaming pace of a battlefield. Though, all things considered, everything appeared to be pretty much in control.

Gargoyle-like, Sailor Nemesis surveyed the scene below her. Yes, things looked remarkably well controlled. From her hidden perch sixteen stories up, she noted (with a great deal of satisfaction) that the Sailor Princesses and the vast majority of those people who had joined the ranks of the White Moon were now imprisoned. In fact, unless her eyes were deceiving her, it appeared that the Princess' royal squeeze had also been captured. Ha! Yep. There he was, a tiny figure cloaked in purple, pacing back and forth in the tiny area in which he was permitted to stand. He didn't have a lot of room. None of them did. Sailor Nemesis wondered how he liked it – how he, the great Prince Endymion, liked being forced to associate with the lowly peasants. He probably didn't care for it much, but then, he didn't have much of a choice. It was either mingle with the masses or step out of line and have your butt kicked (or worse) by the guards. Sailor Nemesis saw _them_, too – her brothers and sisters of the Black Moon, fellow disciples of Satoshi and his teachings – and her heart went out to them. They were acting as sentries, making sure that those of the White Moon didn't interfere with the real battle that was going on just beyond. Each had the inverted black crescent upon their forehead and wore a pair of Black Poison Crystal earrings. Dreamily, Nemesis touched fingers to her own mark and shook her head slightly, causing her Black Poison Crystal earrings to jangle. Touching the mark and feeling the weight of the earrings made her happy. After all this time of being alone and unhappy, she had finally found a place where she belonged. The mark on her brow and the jewelry dangling from her ears were proof that she had been accepted into the fold.

Accepted. At long last.

All thanks to Satoshi.

Speaking of which…

Sailor Nemesis turned her attention from the knot of guards and prisoners and commenced the search for Satoshi. It didn't take her long to spot him. She first saw the Black Poison Crystal rotating off in the distance - looming large, dominating the surrounding landscape - and then, using that as a point of reference, she quickly found Satoshi. He was at the base, looking little more than a dark purple blob from Nemesis' vantage point. But she knew it was him nonetheless. For that fire was burning again, hotter and brighter than ever. It was raging unchecked through her body, overloading her senses, searing into her soul. She wanted to rush down there, to wrap her beloved in her arms and to have him cover her face with kisses. Yet she restrained herself. It would not do for her to hurry and make a mess of things. First she had to assess the situation.

After the initial joy of seeing Satoshi had worn off, Nemesis was able to take a better look at the situation. Now she became aware that he was involved in a duel. A duel with _her. _Little Miss Moon Princess. The two opponents were positioned across from one another, each straining to gain leverage against the other – the Princess sending out rays of pure white light, Satoshi fighting back with the power of _his _Crystal, and the power of both colliding somewhere in the middle.

She took in the two figures and appraised their body language. Princess Moonbeam appeared to be struggling – Satoshi, not so much. He seemed to be in complete control of the situation. Even so, she wanted to check in with him. Just to see if she could offer any further assistance. Probably not, though. She had a hunch he would want to take care of this himself. But she had to check, just the same.

_Satosh? _She whispered his name carefully in her mind, sending it to him on a soft breeze scented with lilac. _It's me, Firefly. I'm here. Is there anything I can help you with?_

And then, snapping back at her almost instantly: _Well, don't just stand there like a moron! HELP me!_

Sailor Nemesis recoiled as if slapped. It took her a second or two to gather her thoughts for another exchange. _Sure. Sure. Anything you want. _She frowned. _What do you want me to do?_

_How should I know?! _Satoshi screamed back. _Sneak up behind the Princess and stab her through the heart or something! You have a big shiny weapon - - USE IT!! _

True. A big shiny weapon she did have. Sailor Nemesis glanced down at the Reaping Scythe in her hands, seeing it but not seeing it. She was only dimly aware of her location, hanging off the side of a building sixteen stories up.

Her lip trembled. Her eyes began to water over. _Wow. He sounded …. mad._

_No he isn't, _another part of her spoke up. _He's just stressed right now as you can plainly see. Just do as he says for a change and he'll be his normal lovable huggable self again. _

She nodded. Her grip on the scythe intensified.

_Just don't go and screw everything up, for cryin' out loud!_

Well, of course. There was always that. The fear of "screwing up". Still, with the fate of the world resting on her shoulders, that was hardly an option. So, with that in mind, Sailor Nemesis surveyed the area behind the Princess, looking for a possible means of approaching her undetected. And wouldn't you know it – there just happened to be a nice juicy shadow almost directly behind her.

Call it providence.

Just one quick thrust with the Reaping Scythe through the back of the body, slicing the spine and puncturing the heart. For all intensive purposes, the Princess would be dead before she even hit the ground. It would be so easy. Killing her would serve as the first step toward a happy life.

Smiling, Sailor Nemesis closed her eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop her once again. It would be a grand moment for her – the murder of her former mentor. It would serve as both the literal and metaphorical providence of her old life from the new. How glorious. How empowering. How –

The confident smile of her lips faltered. This seemed to be taking a very long time. Ordinarily, teleportation between shadows occurred in a microsecond. This time, however, it seemed to be taking longer. Something was wrong. Something had _happened_.

Fearing what she might see, Sailor Nemesis opened her eyes. And gasped, her hard persona temporarily forgotten. She was, in those classic words of Dorothy Gale, not in Kansas anymore. She had left the ruins of Tokyo behind her. In fact, it looked as if she had left the whole of Japan behind. The place in which she now found herself looked more like a hellish rendition of America's Grand Canyon. She had opened her eyes to find that she was standing in a ravine of some kind. Jagged monuments of rock surrounded the narrow gorge on both sides, rising high into a pitch-black nighttime sky void of even the faintest starlight. The air felt musty. Like the stale odor of a basement room that's been closed up too long. Nemesis took it in through a shocked open mouth, the heavy atmosphere of the strange place coating her lungs in chalky powder.

Where could she be? What _was_ this place? This stagnant, dead place? It all looked so alien to her. Yet the more she took in her new surroundings, the more she came to believe that perhaps she had never left Tokyo. Maybe this _was_ Tokyo – albeit another version of it. Those towering rocks, they could be thought of as skyscrapers. And this deep gorge she found herself in, didn't it seem a little like a street? It did. Even so, this place was odd. Unfamiliar. And it gave Sailor Nemesis the creeps.

Lightning blazed suddenly, exploding over the alternate-universe Tokyo like a bombshell. For several frantic seconds, the utter black of the sky gave way to a shimmering purple color that would've been beautiful to gaze at had the situation been different. A finger of the weird purple lightning struck the ground just east of Sailor Nemesis location, hurling chunks of rock and dust into the air. She flung herself instinctively away from the flash but screamed in spite of herself at the deafening blast of thunder that immediately followed.

Backing away, one of her boots struck a large pebble and she tumbled over sideways, tripping again on the long ribbon of her back bow. The bottom stump of her scythe smashed painfully against the top of her foot. She screamed, more in aggravation than pain, and collapsed upon the dirt. She remained there for quite a while. Tears began to well up behind her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered and a half-choked sob escaped. She was alone. More than that, she _felt_ alone. The burning fire of Satoshi's love had disappeared entirely. Where was she? Had she been transported to another planet? Another dimension? What? Two tears fell – one from each eye. Being of the opinion that some self-pity was healthy, she allowed it.

"Groveling suits you."

Sailor Nemesis' head jerked up with a snap. A glimmer of pain ran down the length of her neck but she ignored it. All of her attention was focused on the girl standing before her. She saw nothing else. Heard nothing else. Nothing but the girl existed.

It was like looking into a mirror, for the girl standing there was Sailor Nemesis herself - reflected perfectly back. Every feature, every hair, every wrinkle of the face was a perfect replica of the original. Except for the eyes, of course. They had retained their shape (wide and innocent, no matter the deed being done) and color (a deep plum), but the thing looking out from them was something else entirely. It was an old something, an ancient something that had never been human. And now it looked down upon the fallen Sailor Nemesis with eyes of judgment.

"You've forsaken your duty," it said in a voice that also perfectly matched the original – though perhaps a bit deeper and much more serious in tone.

"It was never my duty. I signed no contract. I had no say in the matter." Sailor Nemesis arose to her feet and tried to take on an air of confidence. She blinked back the remaining tears, not wanting to give herself away by wiping them gone by hand.

The creature opposite said nothing. Neither did Nemesis. Instead, she took this opportunity to study her doppelganger. It was of her own height and body shape, of course. The black hair came to a length just above the shoulder – same as hers. However, the uniform it sported was completely different from her own. Where Sailor Nemesis wore a bodice of black vinyl coupled with a black skirt and bow, the parasite wore an ensemble consisting mainly of white and purple. The double-layered skirt was violet, as was the star-shaped brooch pinned to the front bow. The thing's boots were white, and knee-length lined with purple trim along the tops. Tiny purple earrings in the shape of stars continued the two worn themes. A golden tiara set with a stone of amethyst indicated the creature's alleged royal status.

It looked like a human, but looks could be deceiving.

"Sailor Saturn," Nemesis said curtly.

The monstrosity in the little girl suit frowned. "Hotaru."

Now with the pleasantries taken care of, Sailor Nemesis motioned skyward with her hands. "I suppose this was your doing?" She was amazed at how cool her voice sounded.

"Yes."

"Then I further suppose that you brought me here to stop me. That we're going to be having a little duel and that whoever wins also wins permanent control of my body?"

"Correct."

"And it will be to the death. No prisoners, in other words."

Sailor Saturn nodded – the slightest bow of the head. "It is as you say."

Nemesis shrugged. "Very well. But first, let's introduce ourselves. Just for the record." Her body tingled. The edge of excitement had returned. She felt invincible.

"Very well," Saturn repeated. She took a step forward, bringing up both hands from her side and for the first time, Nemesis saw what it was she'd been holding. The Silence Glaive. Its silver top gleamed purple in the continuing flashes of lightning. "With the blessings of Saturn, the planet of destruction, I am the soldier of Silence – Sailor Saturn."

"And with the blessings of Nemesis, the planet of darkness, I am the soldier of Poison – Sailor Nemesis." She smiled warmly, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the Silence Glaive. "And it will be my pleasure to murder you today."

With the formal introductions out of the way, she wasted no time. Sailor Nemesis charged toward her adversary, sweeping the Reaping Scythe around in a graceful gesture. She meant to take off the creature's head with it, but her aim was clumsy and the parasite dodged it easily.

Screaming (once again in the throes of blinding frustration), she tried again. This time her aim proved better, but the other was fast – alarmingly so – and sidestepped. Sailor Nemesis whirled, her ribbons twirling gaily, and tried again. And failed to hit anything but air.

_"Just die!!" _she screamed, and it dawned on her that maybe she sounded just a little like a child throwing a temper tantrum. But she didn't care. She wanted blood. She wanted to see a corpse lying at her feet. She wouldn't rest until –

"Ooof!"

The elbow had come from nowhere. It struck her squarely in the gut, knocking the air out of her. She toppled backward unsteadily but did not fall. Sailor Saturn dashed toward her and Nemesis was amazed to find that the thing's face was oddly composed, even in the midst of battle. It was taking this thing way too seriously.

Taking a cue from Saturn, Sailor Nemesis waited until the very last moment to dodge. She forced herself to remain in place while Saturn charged toward her. Then, just as the Glaive began to drop, out darted Nemesis from under its deadly path. The weapon bit into the bedrock harmlessly. Meanwhile, out of sight behind Sailor Saturn's hunched form, Nemesis took another swing. But alas – another swing, another near miss.

A swirl of purple and the monster was facing her again. Out shot a fist. It connected painfully with her face and sent her head spinning around like a top. Her tongue unrolled itself stupidly from her mouth. Bits of blood mixed with spittle flew. Nemesis swore.

Another fist came hurtling toward her like a comet.

This time, it was _she_ who dodged. She spun deftly away from the oncoming strike and was turned around just in time to see Saturn hauling off again. The arm of the Sailor Soldier sprung out like a coil and Nemesis once again evaded by simply taking half a step back.

_Twice in a row! I'll on a roll. _Her heart leapt with accomplishment. And could it be that Sailor Saturn's face had lost its composure? It sure looked like it, if only partly. Though the mouth had not yet turned down into a frown of concentration, it _had_ slipped somewhat. And the eyes appeared to be narrowing.

"Eat it!" shrieked Sailor Nemesis, bringing up a knee into Saturn's chest. The sailor-suited alien wheezed; it's eyes wrinkling shut from the impact and Nemesis hooted with laughter at the sound and the sight. A low kick to the side and Saturn's legs gave way. It collapsed. The Silence Glaive clattered uselessly to the ground.

Oh _yeah_. Sailor Nemesis let out a puff of air that sent her bangs flying up. She sauntered forward, toward the pathetic crumpled mass that had, for so long, been her tormentor. It didn't move. Perhaps it was dead? If so, it hadn't put up much of a fight. Nemesis inched forward cautiously, as though she were approaching a ticking time bomb. She stopped when she noticed the subtle rise and fall of the thing's chest.

Still breathing.

Well, good. This gave her a chance to gloat. So she stood there, fully prepared to spit out a scathing condemnation, but the words wouldn't come. She had a theme in mind – the futility of the powers of good and the hopelessness in changing the unchangeable – but darned if she couldn't think of a way to phrase it. She puffed out her lip. Well, dang it.

_Never mind that! Don't take your eyes off her! _(without realizing it, she had begun to think of her opponent as a human, even bestowing upon it a feminine pronoun – thinking of it in such terms made it easier to deal with) _She's fast! Keep on striking while she's down! Don't give her a chance to get up!_

"Right," Nemesis said, newly thrust back into reality. She raised her scythe, prepared to administer the final blow.

Too late. The area at her feet was empty.

Sailor Nemesis swore. Cursing made her feel tough. She darted her eyes around, looking for any sign of movement. Saw nothing. Crap. Where could she be? Where?!

_This is what you get for trying to show off, _her brain quipped.

_All right! Yes. Thank you. Point taken. Now shut up. I have to concentrate._

All around her, the mountains loomed. Dark. Silent. Watching her. Could _she_ be out there too – hiding amongst the crags, waiting for the opportune time to strike? Surely there had to be caves. Perhaps Sailor Saturn was cowering inside one of them even now, licking her wounds. Nemesis cursed herself for not having noticed this sooner – the fact that if there were caves, they could've provided her with some stealth maneuvering. But then, strategic combat wasn't really her style. She had always considered herself to be more of a hack-em and slash-em type of gal. In fact –

Wait. There! Up, up, up!!!

In later retrospect, she would never know what had caused her to look up. Had she heard something? Noticed a shadow darting across the ground? Or had it been mere coincidence? Blind luck? Whatever the reason, it didn't matter much. Whatever the cause, Nemesis suddenly found herself looking up, her head twisting up and around as if guided by magnets. She saw Sailor Saturn hanging suspended in the air – in the midst of a dive-bomb. She looked like a swooping crane. Or a pelican plunging for fish. Twin purple ribbons streamed out behind her like contrails. Her face had lost all of its former steely composure. She now looked positively crazed. Both hands were raised, bringing down the Glaive in a silvery arch.

Sailor Nemesis saw this and responded by bringing her hands up in a shielding move. Silence Glaive crashed against Reaping Scythe. Metal licked metal. Sparks flew. Overhead, lightning flashed. Saturn landed with a thud. She pushed forward. Nemesis pushed right on back. Neither budged an inch.

"This treachery of yours will come to a bad end," Saturn managed through a double row of clenched teeth.

"Yes," said Nemesis. "For you."

Saturn shook her head slightly. It was a gesture that made Nemesis' blood boil, for it had been a headshake of disappointment. And who was this _thing_ to be disappointed in her? What did she owe it that it had such a right to that emotion? What had she ever been to it? Nothing if not a mere host for its spirit. Certainly not a friend.

"You've deserted your friends, turned your back on your duties and all because of a _boy_." She spat the last word out of her mouth like a piece of rotten fruit. "That's despicable, Hotaru – that it amounts to no more than that."

"I didn't do it because of a boy," Sailor Nemesis said. She pushed back quickly, causing Sailor Saturn to stumble slightly. Then she brought the wooden length of the scythe crashing up into her chin. Then, with the parasite still reeling, she thrust the hooked blade through the thing's chest. Puncturing the heart. Slicing the spine. Saturn's eyes bulged. Her mouth dropped open comically. She fell. This time for good.

"I did it for love. Which is something else entirely."

Lying face-up, amongst the rocks and dust, the dying Sailor Saturn opened her mouth in an attempt to speak. Blood bubbled up her throat and spilled over the sides of her jaw, staining the entire bottom half of her face a bright red. She looked like an ill-mannered vampire, one who, in the zeal of its hunger, had forgotten to use a napkin to wipe the remnants of its meal from its face. The mouth opened. Closed. It produced a delicious little _urk! _noise that made everything worthwhile. Then, with a seemingly tremendous amount of effort, the thing spoke to her one final time.

"Love, you said. You … you lo-love him, but the f-feeling isn't mutual."

A sharp wheeze of air. A death rattle. At least, that's what Sailor Nemesis hoped.

"He's using you … been u-using you all … all along."

Sailor Nemesis sighed and looked skyward. The storm appeared to be moving east. The lightning wasn't as bad now. "Get a new line," she mumbled to the swirling, purple-tinted clouds overhead. Then she dropped her head back down, ready to tell the leech at her feet that she had heard that line before – that tired old tune about Satoshi just using her – and how it hadn't worked _then_ and it wasn't going to work now.

But Sailor Saturn was dead.

Or was that even the right term? Because in order for something to die, it had to have been alive at one point. And the thing wrapped in the white and purple Sailor uniform had never been alive. Had never been human. Had never been alive. Either way, it wouldn't be bothering her anymore. One less Sailor Soldier to worry about.

Then, because the situation seemed to warrant it, Nemesis smiled. But it was hallow. Empty. And it reflected her mood. She, too, felt empty and hollow inside. The false smile fell from her face. To replace it, she tried to summon up _some_ emotion – gladness, a sense of accomplishment, something– but could not. Though she had succeeded in slaying her life's adversary, _her_ nemesis, she found that she could take no joy from it. She felt neither happiness nor sorrow. Nothing but emptiness.

_He could be using you._

Uh huh. Yeah right.

_But it could be. Think about it._

She would not.

_Think about how fast it happened. One minute he's a perfect stranger to you and the next, you're ready to bear his children! It's only been a few days since you two first met! Or have you forgotten that?_

So? Whirlwind romances weren't unheard of. Besides, with true love it doesn't make sense to wait and take things slow. When it's TRUE love, it's like –

_Just admit it, Hotaru. Even you in your pink haze can't deny there's something fishy in how all this played out. _

Nope. She would think of this no more. It was sad that she couldn't just accept a good thing.

_What if it's true, though? What if he's been pretending? Faking his feelings for you just to get close. Close enough to use you._

Enough of this.

Stern-faced, Sailor Nemesis turned to leave. But couldn't. She found (with a profound sense of alarm) that she couldn't take her eyes off Sailor Saturn's face. Literally, _could not advert her gaze_. It was like she had been…

Hypnotized? Entranced? Spellbound?

Then, as she watched, helplessly unable to even blink, the jewel of Sailor Saturn's tiara began to glow. At first it appeared as a dull violet color: deep and dark like old prunes. Then it began to lighten, changing hues from that gloomy shade of purple to something much brighter – something dazzling, incandescent, almost neon. The light grew and grew, growing bigger and bigger, until the tiny star-shaped amethyst gem could contain it no longer. It slipped from its confines – an ever-expanding orb of blinding purple light.

Sailor Nemesis tried to scream but could not. She tried to flee but discovered her legs to be locked in place.

She could only watch as the light engulfed her.

…

It swallowed her whole, engulfing her as easily as a whale could open its mouth and devour a swimmer. The purple brightness swam over her body and seemed to enter her. She could feel it forcing its way into her soul uninvited and it was a familiar experience, oh yes. It felt like that Sailor Saturn beast trying to possess her all over again. Except she knew that couldn't be the case this time. No, not this time. Because she –it – was dead.

Then by whose authority was this happening to her?

But before the question could be answered, the light receded.

…

She knew where she was almost immediately – an astounding feat indeed considering the strange juxtaposition of going from the massive, open-air mountain valley to…

_The school auditorium?_

Yes. The mountains had been replaced with white, stone walls. The tumultuous skies had faded and given way to a high ceiling. The ground strewn with dust and pebbles was no more. In its place, Sailor Nemesis observed herself to be standing on a scuffed wooden floor.

She was up on stage. One look out, seeing the hundred or so faces staring back at her confirmed that. Each member of her audience wore an expression of lethal boredom. Each looked ready to fall asleep. And each was wearing a uniform. The boys were decked out in identical button-down dark blue suits that made each of them look like Catholic priests in training, while the girls wore sailor suits. Red bows paired with blue collars.

The uniforms of Juuban Junior High.

That cinched it. She had somehow traveled backward in time. She had gone from the streets of a dilapidated Tokyo to a dark, twisted mountain range and now she had been transported once again – only this time to her school's auditorium, several days in the past.

"Before we begin, how many of you out there are ninth graders?" a man somewhere to Nemesis' left was asking.

_It's Mr. Tanaka,_ she realized. And it was. She didn't even have to look in his direction to now that. But she did anyway. She looked and saw him just as she had seen him that day – the tall, bald senior high principle, dressed in a conservative three-button suit. He was standing behind the podium, speaking into the attached microphone, and from her close proximity to him, Sailor Nemesis could make out a few details that she had missed the first time he'd spoken. The big sweat stains under his arms, for instance. The mild twitch of his right eye. The man was nervous. She had noticed that the first time, but now she could smell the fear radiating off his body. Being the beast of prey that she was, she found herself newly drawn to such scents.

"Well great! That's fantastic!" Mr. Tanaka said in response to the few raised ninth grader hands. "I bet all of you are super excited to be moving up in the world of education." A chuckle. "Provided you all pass the entrance exams!"

_What is this? _Nemesis looked out into the audience just in time to catch a few eye rolls. She wasn't afraid – not yet - but she _was_ beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

Beside her, Mr. Tanaka cleared his throat. Loosened his tie. Another scrumptious wave of utter dread struck Nemesis and she had to take a moment to savor the smell. "But enough of me talking. I'll come back later to answer some of the more technical details of the admission process. But now I want to introduce to you a proud high school student who will talk to you about all the fun activities Juuban High has to offer. I'd like you to welcome…" He paused and looked down at some notes. "Oh yes. Please welcome Satoshi Yomata."

At the mere mention of his name, Sailor Nemesis felt her heart begin to race. She could feel her pulse pounding its rhythm into the center of her forehead. Then, near swoon, she turned and saw him coming her way. He was wearing his military-inspired senior high uniform and his hair was perfect and his eyes were those gorgeous almonds of milk chocolate and, oh, he looked just fabulous!

"Satosh," she whispered.

But he didn't answer. He was looking right through her, beyond her. He gave no indication at all that he even saw her standing there. He probably didn't. _She_ was the ghostly observer here.

Then he passed through her. Whoosh. Just like that, with Sailor Nemesis feeling nothing more than a slight chill as he did so. She watched him approach the podium, wondering if he had felt anything.

_This was when we first met! _she inwardly gushed. Now with a genuine smile on her face, she moved closer to him, eager to watch her precious memories play themselves out in the flesh.

"I don't think I need this," Satoshi said after turning off the mike. "I have a big enough mouth as it is." He laughed, sending chills racing down Nemesis' spine. "Can you hear me out there, Juuban junior?!"

The crowd shouted an affirmative.

And Nemesis, totally swept up in the moment, screamed a hearty "yes" back as well.

Satoshi moved to the edge of the stage and sat down. "I bet you're all excited about going to high school am I right?'

_Which one is she?_

Initially, Sailor Nemesis took no notice of this new voice. For she had memorized every minute detail of this day – every word spoken by Satoshi, every gesture of his hand – so at first, the voice simply did not register on her radar. It did not fit into the landscape she had so meticulously memorized. But when it _did_ register, it hit with the force of a thunderbolt.

It was Satoshi's voice. That was Satoshi asking, _"Which one is she?" _But that didn't fit. She couldn't remember him saying that.

_That's because I'm hearing his thoughts. _Sailor Nemesis gasped and covered her mouth with two gloved hands, the sudden revelation coming in quick on the heels of the other one. Could it be? Could she really be eavesdropping in on the private ponderings of his mind? It was a crazy notion, but no more crazier than ghostly time-travel.

Then another voice answered the first and this voice she also knew. It belonged to the unseen entity Satoshi called "Master". But she knew it best as the voice of Chaos. _Row fifteen_, it said, its strange androgynous voice coming out like the tinkling of bells. _The aisle seat._

Shivering, Sailor Nemesis looked once more out into the audience and quickly counted fifteen rows back and settled her gaze on the aisle seat. And though she had been expecting it, she nevertheless felt a little faint at seeing herself sitting there.

The Hotaru of the past, of row fifteen's aisle seat, looked indistinguishable from the rest of the females in the building. She was wearing the same bright and cheery uniform as all the others, and, like the rest, was freely ogling the senior high speaker. Up on stage, Nemesis stared slack-jawed down at herself. _That's me,_ she thought, trying to drive the reality of the situation into her brain. _That's me sitting there. This all happened just a few days ago. _She shook her head sickly. A crazy laugh danced on the tip of her tongue. _This is so crazy._

"I bet you're all excited about going to high school, am I right?" Satoshi asked, the mildly sarcastic tone of his voice indicating that he already knew the answer.

The crowd groaned.

_That's her? _

Back to the mental eavesdropping. Nemesis stiffened. She didn't like listening in on private thoughts_. Or maybe it's because you know what's coming, _a tiny, undisciplined part of her brain suggested.

_That's her? _She's_ a Sailor Soldier?_

Sailor Nemesis' eyes darted to Satoshi's back. He was talking audibly about the joys and pleasures of high school – which consisted mainly of the clubs (they represent a variety of interests!) but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

_Yes, she is, _Chaos answered. _The Soldier of Saturn._

_Satoshi: She's ugly._

Sailor Nemesis' breath stalled. Her body became rigid. Her eyes opened and closed rhythmically like the malfunctioning peepers of a Good-Nite Suzie baby doll. She could feel the sweat rolling down her breastbone. Down her back. Her miniskirt clung wetly to her thighs. She could feel a blush rising to her face.

_Chaos: She's a vital asset. Having a Sailor Soldier on our side could greatly expedite our timetable. I trust you'll be able to win her over? Use your "gifts" if need be. Cloud her mind. Open your golden eye onto her. Do whatever it takes. Make her ours._

_Satoshi: Master, with all due respect, I don't think I'll need to resort to that. No sense in wasting the magic. I'll just pour on the charm. She won't be able to resist. The poor little dear looks half deprived anyway…_

And then, vocally: "You there!"

The Hotaru of the past, her face a burning shade of red, blinked and pretended to look behind her, while the Hotaru of the present stood numb up on stage. She had entered a sort of mini paralysis. Everything below her waist felt like pins and needles. Her head swam. Her vision faded in and out in time with her pulse. She vaguely wondered if she was going to pass out. She kind of hoped she would. Then she would be spared the rest.

_Chaos: Do what you must. She's the easiest of the nine. You'll have no trouble converting her, I'm sure._

Telepathically, Satoshi acknowledged that he wouldn't have any trouble and he thanked his Master for showing her to him and for giving him this opportunity. Then, speaking the old-fashioned way via the vocal chords, he asked the Hotaru of the past if she had any dreams, if she had a goal in life. The Hotaru of the past said she wanted to be a nurse. Satoshi said that was a fantastic life ambition, to be a nurse. He then fancied that, if she continued down the nursing path, she would prove to be a popular one. Nurse Pretty Girl. Then he flashed her a smile before moving on, and even though he had his back turned to her, Sailor Nemesis knew that was what he was doing because hadn't she memorized everything from this day? This day, this day? This holy, sacred day?

Through tear-soaked eyes, Sailor Nemesis caught a sideways peek of herself. Her past self. The Hotaru of row fifteen was smiling and blushing and looked very, very stupid. She turned away quickly.

_Maybe I can repress this, _she thought randomly. Then she laughed abruptly and the force of the half-crazed giggle sent twin snot-rivers gushing out of her nostrils. She wiped away the mucus with the back of her hand, pausing momentarily to study the glistening trail of it streaked across her chauffeur-styled glove.

So it was true. Watching this little episode left no room for doubts. Satoshi _had_ been using her. The only reason he had approached her in the first place was because he … he … he had wanted a Sailor Soldier in his ranks.

_So? What does it matter? I'll just forget it. Yes, that's right. I'll just put this out of my mind. It never happened. _Nemesis nodded happily, pleased that she had come to this bright decision._ It never happened. I love Satoshi and Satoshi loves me. It never happened. It never happened. I love Satoshi and the feeling IS mutual and someday we're gonna get married and live in a nice house and have lots of kids and IT NEVER HAPPENED MOTHERF-_

Then the light returned. Purple. Blotting out all else. Enveloping her.

She turned to flee but once again discovered her legs to be locked in place. What difference did it make, anyway? There was no escaping that light. There would be no running from the truth. "But I don't care if it's the truth!" she screamed, frenzied, manic. "Please just leave me alone. I don't care if it's a lie. I don't…"

But the light was relentless. The auditorium dissolved. The rest of the lecture faded into far away echoes.

"Please. Just please. Leave me alone."

But the light was relentless.

…

She saw it all in a moment of time – the entirety of her relationship with Satoshi played out a second time. Only this time, she had the misfortune of reliving it from _his_ perspective. And from her perch high on top the telepathic totem pole, she came to understand a few things.

For starters, he had hated making physical contact with her. The mere prospect of touching or (heaven forbid) kissing her had made his gag reflex activate. He prepared himself mentally for such events in the same way ordinary people might prepare themselves for a colonoscopy. He despised her. He thought her repulsive. He had an idea that she smelled funny. He thought her views on pop culture and world events to be hideously boring and moronic. He had been loath to make conversation with her. And that time he had bought her flowers he had mourned the loss of the few paltry yen it had cost.

And that time, after the school end-of-the-year festival, when he had brought her back to his place and had pressured her on the subject of … consummating their relationship, he had done so not out of any desire for her. Oh, no. If the idea of simply caressing her hand had made his flesh tingle, the notion of actually engaging in intercourse with her was enough to make him want to rush to the bathroom with a severe case of diarrhea. No. He had simply known that sex was something that he could lord over her – just another thing he could control her with.

The fact that he didn't love her – that he had never loved her - was so obvious that it warranted no further thought on the matter.

Sailor Nemesis watched this all play out with helpless eyes. Many times she protested but the visions continued. She just watched from a distance. Watched as her giggling, jovial, delightfully oblivious past-self danced and frolicked with a boy who sneered and scoffed at her behind the veil of his mind.

So it was true. So it had always been true. The kisses, the warm hugs, the professions of eternal love …. they had all been lies. She now saw through his every deceit.

And when the light finally faded, depositing her back in the modern day, she emerged from it an older, wiser Hotaru – stern of face and hopelessly bitter.

She looked to her left and saw Princess Serenity, clad in flowing white, her arms outstretched, the Silver Moon Crystal radiating brilliantly. She looked to her right and saw Death Phantom, a wraith in purple, spewing forth the poison of his own dark Crystal.

So she had reached a crossroads. She knew this without a doubt. Even ugly, stupid, foul-smelling girls like her weren't totally blind to such matters. On the one hand, she could continue down her present path of subservience and false love toward Satoshi. And it would be easy. She knew she had the capacity to fool herself. Just a few repetitions of "I love him and he loves me" and denials and all could be made right again. It would be easy. Of the two paths laid out ahead, it would be the easiest by far. To go on like nothing ever happened. But then there was another option - the option of severing all ties with Satoshi and trying to make a go of it by herself. This second choice would be the hardest to accept. Because if she turned her back on Satoshi, what guarantee did she have that the other side would take her back in? That was a big risk, right there. The risk of being ostracized from either group, the potential reality of being alone.

And she didn't want to be alone.

But Satoshi … She looked at him now – the mere shadow of himself that he had become, hardly anything more than a living skeleton – and found that she couldn't go back to living a lie. Not even if she wanted to. And though she knew it was wrong, she _did_ want to.

"Why persist, Princess?" he was asking. "Lay down this false righteousness of yours and die with grace. _I_ am the master of this world now."

Sailor Nemesis turned to the left and regarded Princess Serenity silently. She saw how hard the other girl was fighting and how, even now, laboring against an unbeatable enemy and the reeling from a friend's betrayal, she wasn't going to give up. That was something to be admired, she thought – the ability to continue on in the face of insurmountable odds. What did you call such a thing? Tenacity? Will power? Or was it nothing more than plain ol' gumption? Whatever you called it, the Princess had it in spades. And Sailor Nemesis admired her for it.

Watching her from a distance, watching as she so gallantly fought this impossible battle, Nemesis came to a very important decision. She nodded in the Princess' direction and, although she knew Serenity couldn't see her, she sent a little nod of thanks over her direction anyway.

Death Phantom sighed, sounding suddenly weary of the fight. "Why must we drag this out? Accept your defeat. Take it like the strong woman you've proven yourself to be!" The sarcasm in that last bit was knee-deep. "After all, I possess not only the invincible Black Poison Crystal, but also _all _the Sailor Crystals of this solar system!"

_Oh? _

Sailor Nemesis arched an eyebrow. _All_ the Sailor Crystals? Somehow she thoroughly doubted that last part.

She smiled.

Doubted it very much. 

…

"Why persist, Princess? Lay down this false righteousness of yours and die with grace. _I_ am the master of this world now."

Usagi said nothing. Couldn't have said anything had she even wanted to. She didn't have the strength to speak. She scarcely had the strength to continue standing. Her body felt like a withered husk. Her face was an unexpressive mask of suffering. It felt as though she had been at this for an eternity – standing here, battling the encompassing darkness with only the light of the Silver Crystal to guide her way.

Darkness verses light. Good verses evil. The eternal war of the ages.

Usagi shook her head in an attempt to ward off the waves of nausea that continued to break upon her, threatening to erode her already weak sense of resolve. She would continue on. Of course she would – it was her destiny as a Sailor Soldier. For she, too, had taken a vow just as her friends had. To protect the star of Earth – that was her duty. And to fight until the battle has been won – this represented her destiny.

Destiny and duty, all things converging here – in this place, at this time. Past, present, future. Life and death. Victory and defeat. It would all be decided here.

Having said that, though, Usagi wasn't all together sure she would emerge the victor. She had fought gallantly, true, but she had a hunch her time was up. She could feel it in her bones. Though the powers of the Silver Crystal were eternal, the same could not be said for her. She was a mere human after all, made from dirt and bone and blood, held together by muscle fiber, and in the end, the Crystal was only as powerful as its wielder.

She was going to loose. She knew this and accepted it with a clam maturity beyond her years. Contrary to what the storybooks said, sometimes evil _did_ triumph. She was going to loose and possibly (probably) die in the process, but she would go down fighting at least. She owed her friends, her star, that much.

"Why must we drag this out? Accept your defeat. Take it like the strong woman you've proven yourself to be."

Usagi lowered her eyes, steeling herself for the inevitable.

"After all, I possess not only the invincible Black Poison Crystal, but also _all _the Sailor Crystals of this solar system!"

She only hoped her failure here in the present would not erase Chibiusa's existence in the future.

Chibiusa … the daughter she would never have.

No. It was just too sad to think about. Usagi closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. Her pulse faltered. Skipped a beat. Then two. Her mouth fell slack. One arm dropped involuntarily to her side. The light of the Silver Crystal stuttered. Trying for one more push, one final show of strength, Usagi attempted to throw herself forward, into the core of the darkness but lost her footing and fell instead. She buckled to the ground, slamming onto her elbow and twisting her ankle in the process, but she felt no pain. Her body had lost all feeling long ago.

She watched the darkness come racing toward her like the shadow of some invisible monster and since there was no time to catalog all of her regrets, she settled for this simple apology instead: _I'm so sorry, everyone._

And with that, she closed her eyes and waited for death to sweep her off the battlefield.

And then a strange thing happened.

She heard, quite clearly and from somewhere off to the right, someone shouting the phrase, "Saturn Crystal Power! Make-UP!" And when she looked, she saw Hotaru running past, her black Sailor Nemesis uniform in flames. A piece of ribbon detached itself from the back of her skirt and fluttered through the air, a fiery streamer. The Black Poison Crystal earrings dangling from her ears exploded with the same sound effect as a champagne bottle being uncorked – _pop! pop!_ Then, with that hideous costume falling from her slim, pale body like burnt ash, the mark of the Black Moon burst out from her forehead like shards of shattered black glass. And then, before she turned and vanished from sight, Usagi caught a glimpse of a new symbol blazing – this one a bright purple, and looking like an artful lower-case "H".

Could it be? Was this really happening? Usagi wanted to believe, but a cautious mind warned against it. _Mustn't get excited now. It's probably just an illusion. Yes, that's it. This is just your version of the Great White Light._

Except it wasn't.

Because then the flaming sky overhead split, causing Chaos to roar with pain (a prolonged cry of agony, impossible to put into words, but sounding something like this: _Yeuuuurrrrrgraaaaaahhh!!!!!) _and then from that gaping wound came a sparkling waterfall of purple glitter which fell somewhere to Usagi's right and any lingering doubts regarding the authenticity of the event were washed away.

Then there was a sound like the unsheathing of a sword, followed almost immediately by a sharp scream.

Subsequently the darkness vanished, all at once, just as abruptly as if somebody had flipped on a light switch.

And with the obstruction gone, Usagi looked and saw Death Phantom crumpled on the ground, his body splayed out corpse-like before her. He appeared to still be alive, but was nevertheless gravely injured – primarily due to the Silence Glaive protruding from the side of his person.

But this wasn't what caught Usagi's attention. What really made her sit up and take notice was the identity of the person standing over him.

The white and purple uniform, the maroon bow, the lavender gem twinkling in the tiara …. Usagi recognized at once the trappings of a Sailor Soldier, had a good idea who it was, but felt reluctant to voice her suspicions out loud.

Then, after several seconds of just staring, of wondering, she decided to risk it.

After taking a moment to wet her lips, she managed to cough up the name that she had been afraid to speak aloud. "Ho – Hotaru?" Then, fearing that perhaps she had made a mistake, she added: "Or Sailor Saturn?"

The girl in the Sailor uniform raised her head. She locked shimmering eyes with Usagi, offered her a wan smile and said, "Both, actually."

…

Excerpt from the diary of Hotaru Tomoe. No date given:

_Well, here we are again. It's … 2:58 in the morning and I can't get to sleep. I jut lie awake in bed and my mind won't shut off. (I swear the grandfather clock out in the hall is going to drive me crazy!!!) So I decided to write down what I'm feeling and maybe doing so will help put my troubled mind at ease. If Michiru finds out, I'll be in trouble – even worse than that time she caught me reading all those comic books by flashlight. But I've decided to risk it. I went to bed around 9:00 and here it is, six hours later and I'm still awake. And the culprit of my insomnia is Satoshi. I can't stop thinking about him. More than that, I can't stop _doubting_ him. Why? Why must I continue to second-guess this? Why can't I just accept happiness? I guess it's because my life has been full of so much tragedy, any ray of hope seems immediately suspicious. But he loves me. I know that. When he smiles at me, I know the feeling is real because his eyes also smile and you can't fake something like that. So I guess I'm the one that's going to ruin things. Yep, sooner or later he'll tire of having me around – little ol' me, timid, second-guessing, indecisive. And he'll realize that he can have his pick of any girl he wants and he'll ditch me faster than a …. faster than a … well you get the picture. Not that I'd blame him. He's a prince and he deserves so much better than me. _

_Okay, now it's 3:13. It took me that long to write that little paragraph and I haven't even scratched the surface. But alas, time (and the rest of the pages in this journal) grows short. I'll have to wrap things up and hope I can get some sleep – 'cause Satoshi has invited me to the senior high end-of-the-year bash! It's tomorrow night, so I better get some good rest. …Actually, now that it's past midnight, I guess it's tonight. Oh, well. I hope I don't screw things up. I hope I can uphold my end of the relationship. I hope I don't push Satoshi away. Because without him … I'd just die. _


	27. Chapter 25 part I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was going to be part of the last chapter, but it soon became clear that the final chapter would be too big. Plus, I haven't uploaded anything for a long time. In any case, I PROMISE the next chapter to be the last!_

Chapter Twenty-Five

Usagi remained rooted in place, utterly captivated by what she was seeing. She wanted to believe that this was Hotaru – the _real_ Hotaru – the same little girl with whom she had once enjoyed a close friendship with, but could not fully accept it. She wanted to run forward, to scoop the sad-faced girl up in her arms and cover her face with kisses … but she did not budge from her spot. Moving forward might shatter this precious illusion. The delicate balance might be disturbed, thus throwing her back into the real world – the real world where the battle with Death Phantom still raged and she herself lay dying in the streets.

So she remained in place, daring not to hope, forcing herself not to speak, not to breathe. She had no idea how this had occurred, this miraculous conversion from the dark Soldier of Nemesis back to Saturn, and honestly did not care to now the device behind it. All that mattered was this: Hotaru had returned. The how and the why didn't matter.

"_Hotaru?!_ I can't be_lieve_ … Hotaru, is that really you?!"

At the sound of Haruka's voice, Usagi turned but caught only a blur of navy as the other woman darted past. Two other blurs immediately followed, vaguely humanoid flashes of marine blue and black. Michiru and Setsuna. Usagi watched, smiling, as they tumbled forward, tripping over their long gowns in the mad rush to welcome Hotaru back. They ran to her, arms outstretched in forgiveness, stepping over the prone body of Death Phantom as thoughtlessly as one would step over a doormat. For in this happy moment of sweet reunion, all else had fallen by the wayside.

"Is that really her?"

Minako appeared suddenly at Usagi's side then, her blue eyes wide with wonderment, her hands clasped together and brought up beneath her chin in eager hopefulness. The others, the remaining Sailor Princesses, Mamoru, and the aides, were also present, having somehow escaped their confinement.

A quick glance over the shoulder confirmed the fact that all the White Moon prisoners had been freed. They were all present, huddled tightly together a little ways off from the royal group. And even in the great mix, Usagi recognized a few familiar faces. She saw Gurio; his gigantic glasses catching even the smallest amount of light and reflecting it back ten-fold. She saw Naru, her auburn hair uncharacteristically messy, standing suspiciously (one might even argue intimately) close to Gurio. She saw Isamu, the boy she had ran back into a war zone to save, sleeping peacefully in the arms of his mother, Yoshiko – the woman who had refused to accompany Usagi into battle but had followed her despite her words to the contrary.

These people were her friends. Even those faces she had no names for. They were all her friends and family. She saw them all standing as one and her heart was full.

However those of the Black Moon Brigade were nowhere to be seen. Every single one of them had vanished, having disappeared back into the shadows from whence they came.

Then a name, surfaced, threatening to extinguish the joy of her heart: _Unazuki. _Where had she run off to? Now that her master had been defeated, had she gone off in hiding, never to return? Or was she watching things even now from some dark corner. Usagi hoped for the latter. She wished with all her soul that Unazuki _was_ out there somewhere and that she might eventually make her presence known so that she could be cleansed of the Black Poison Crystal's dark power. But it would be her move to make.

"Usagi?"

Blinking, Usagi re-focused her attention back to the matter at hand: Hotaru. "Yes," she said. Then she took hold of her friend's hand and, turning to the other anxious members of her party, said, "It's really her. She's back."

There was no need for repetition. The others simply accepted it as truth and did it in a much quicker fashion than Usagi had. "Hotaru!" they cried out in perfect harmonic unison. A single name spoken by seven individuals at once, each voice providing its own unique melody to the chorus – it was truly music to the ears.

Minako, the ever-vivacious loudmouth, was the first to react after the calling of the name. Wrenching her hand away from Usagi, she began to gather up her many skirts in preparation for the jaunt over to Hotaru (the Princess gowns being visually appealing but not very practical for everyday usage). But just as she was about to prance forward, Mamoru touched a light hand to her arm to stop her.

Minako whirled around, a surprised and somewhat scornful look on her face.

"Let's let them have their moment together," he said. He then nodded toward Hotaru and the three women surrounding her and Minako's face softened.

"Of course," she said, returning to Usagi's side.

Respectful silence settled over the group then as they watched the family reunion unfold. And this _was_ a family they were seeing – maybe not one in the traditional sense, but all the right ingredients were there: the doting parents (three of them, in fact), the almost tangible feeling of love, the sense of complete forgiveness for past transgressions… By all outward appearances and for all intensive purposes, this was a family reuniting. One of their members had gone astray but was now being welcomed back into the fold under a canopy of kisses. The prodigal son had returned. Or rather, the prodigal _daughter_.

Oh, what a stirring sight. Setsuna-Mama, Haruka-Papa, and Michiru-Mama and dear, sweet Hotaru hugging and kissing and laughing together as if nothing had ever happened. A beautiful sight. A heart-warming, tear inducing sight indeed. It would've been a perfect fairytale ending, too, if not for one thing. One minor, little thing. So small that Usagi couldn't quite place her finger on it. But it was there, lurking beneath the smiles and the hugging. One thing that, if brought out into the open, had the potential to shatter this pretty picture. But what? What could be so disturbing? What was bothering her so? Her smile slipping, Usagi analyzed the scene playing out before her (this happy reunion perhaps wasn't so happy after all), looking for something, anything, which she could hang her suspicions on. But she couldn't find anything. Not one thing that could justify her feelings of –

Wait.

Ah. There it was. She could see it now. That thing that had been bothering her.

Hotaru wasn't smiling.

Nor did she seem to be engaged in the kissing or the hugging. The focal point, the _reason_ for the smiles on everyone's faces and she was just standing there, wedged in between Haruka and Michiru, looking about as lively as a sack full of flower. She had her head tilted low, the eyes trained upon nothing but the ground. Her limbs hung at her sides, appearing as useless as the arms of a paralysis victim. The girl looked absolutely miserable. But why? This was a happy occasion! The enemy had been defeated and all past grievances forgiven. So what was there to be sad about?

What was going through Hotaru's mind?

"Okay, time's up!" Minako exclaimed suddenly, jabbing an arm into the air. Then, turning a bright face to those around her, she said, "Let's go and give Hotaru a great big cuddly bear-hug welcome back to the team!"

"Yeah!" the others screamed in response and off they went, hiking up their gowns around their knees in a very unladylike manner, giggling like a bunch of maniacs. They ran forward as a herd, playfully pushing one another aside, galloping at breakneck speed as if vying to be the first one to reach an imaginary finish line.

Usagi went right along with them. To stay on the sidelines would've looked suspicious. So she slapped a big fake smile on her face and trudged forward, hand-in-hand with Mamoru. And the closer she got to Hotaru, the more convinced she became that something was wrong with her. Very, _very_ wrong. It wasn't just her lack of a smile or her downbeat body language – it was the vibe she was giving out. Her aura. And it had a sad feel to it. Usagi felt as though she could reach out and touch Hotaru's sadness, for it had wrapped itself around her like a smothering blanket.

They descended upon her like a pack of hyenas - laughing, hugging, passing her around amongst themselves so that everybody could have a chance to welcome her back. She flopped from hand to hand like a lifeless rag doll, that same not-quite-there expression still pasted on her face.

Then a smiling Makoto shoved her into Usagi's hands, startling the Princess into a gasp. She hadn't really been paying attention. No, she'd been too busy playing detective, trying to figure out just what was wrong with Hotaru. She couldn't very well ask. Clearly the girl wasn't in a talkative mood.

The others seemed blissfully unaware of Hotaru's sullen mood. After a quick run-through of all the faces around her, Usagi discovered smiles on each. There was Minako, prancing around like a mental patient, performing an impromptu cancan. And standing next to her, the more subdued Rei Hino – showcasing her happiness not in a crazed dance, but rather by the warm, quiet grin on her face. Another quick look around saw Ami a little ways off to herself, dabbing at her wet eyes with the hem of her gown. Haruka, looking every bit like the poster-child for proud fathers everywhere, had stepped back to allow for the new influx of well-wishers. She had an arm hooked around Michiru's waist, who had her own hands clasped up to her bosom in an expression of heartfelt gratitude. Usagi saw them both and supposed the only things missing from the picture was a pipe for Haruka and a lacey apron for Michiru. Had they those items, they would've looked for all the world like your everyday husband / wife, father / mother combo.

Everyone looked so happy. So ignorant of what was truly going on, but happy nonetheless. Usagi wanted to be happy, too. Or at least fake it in a convincing way. So, with a big grin on her face that showcased both rows of teeth, she snaked an arm around Hotaru's shoulders and gave her a little shake. And she could've sworn she heard something rattling. The last bit of happiness still present in Hotaru's life, perhaps? Usagi didn't know, and that lack of knowledge frightened her. She just seemed so …. so …. the word "unhappy" didn't even come close to describing it. Truth be told, Hotaru looked _dead_. Like a remarkably preserved mummy standing upright on display – one you were free to touch and poke at, but who wouldn't respond back in any way.

_What's wrong, Hotaru? _Usagi drilled the silent question into the crown of Hotaru's head (that being the only portion of her head visible due to her refusal to make eye-contact). _Why won't you tell me, honey? I'm your friend. We can work through it, whatever it is. Come on. Please _tell_ me!_

But Hotaru did not answer. Perhaps she hadn't heard. Or maybe she had but was not ready to open up regarding her troubles.

Well, Usagi would wait no longer. She was going to get to the bottom of this. She would go about it gently, of course, going after the truth with tact and reverence to Hotaru's feelings, but she was going to get an answer from Hotaru even if it killed her.

With this in mind, she bent low on one knee, took Hotaru by the middle and looked her deep in the eyes. Or tried to, at least. Locking eyes with Hotaru was like trying to connect two opposite polarity magnets. But when she finally _did_ seize a pupil, she charged right ahead with it, not even pausing to gather her thoughts. It was now or never. She wanted to make her inquest while she still had Hotaru's attention.

"Listen," she began, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn't hear. No reason this had to be a public spectacle. "I know something's wrong. And I want you to tell me, okay? Nothing's so bad that we can't -"

Then came the laughter.

Usagi pulled away, taken aback by the abrupt shift in Hotaru's tone. Okaaaay, so maybe she wasn't as disturbed as first believed. Either that, or the child was suffering some sort of nervous breakdown. Uneasy with the second prospect, Usagi shifted her weight on her ankles. Yep, the odds were pretty strong that Hotaru was cracking up. Could anyone blame her though, with all that she had been through? Of course not. It was completely understandable. And Usagi was willing to work with her, to put her back on the road of normalcy, to help her live a normal, healthy life.

But actually, now that she was playing closer attention to the sound, the more she thought of it as _male_ laughter. It was deep, with a sick, wheezy undercurrent. And it seemed to be coming from the vicinity of her ankles…

Death Phantom.

In the great emotion of the moment, he had been forgotten. He had turned over on his side. One hand clutched at the gaping wound that Hotaru had inflicted upon him via the Silence Glaive. Something like black blood mixed with what appeared to be baking soda was leaking from the gash in a constant, frothy stream. It ran between his gnarled fingers and dripped steadily to the pavement, congealing there in a foul-smelling puddle. He was injured, gravely so, but he was also laughing. Quietly. To himself. The shoulders beneath his purple robe jerked up and down despite his apparent efforts to keep the source of his merriment a secret. And though he had his face pointed toward the ground, Usagi was certain that, should he roll over, they would all come face-to-face with a ghastly skull whose jaws were locked open in a wide, screaming, inhuman grin.

She shivered.

"Something amusing?"

Ah. Makoto to the frontlines. She had stepped forward, separating herself from the others. Her arms were crossed authoritatively across her chest. Her voice was clam, unhurried, without a hint of fear. The rest of the group (save for Haruka and Mamoru, perhaps) followed her with their eyes, mouths agape in respect. At the reminder that their enemy was still alive and present amongst them, their frolicking had died a quick death. They were afraid. Or at the very least confused as to what the next course of action should be. But Makoto had no such reservations. It was simply in her nature to approach a problem head-on. She was good like that. Usagi admired her a great deal.

Another half-suppressed titter arose from the lump that was Death Phantom. Makoto frowned and the hands went to the hips. "Yo, I asked you a question. Is something _funny_?"

A rustle of fabric. "Yes, actually," a jolly voice replied. "A great number of things, in fact. But right now, I'm just appraising the situation and I really have to compliment you on a job well done." He took a moment then to stop, allowing himself another giggle before proceeding. "Boy, Hotaru really came through, didn't she? Stepping in like that at the last minute? Forsaking the powers of darkness, returning to the light? Wow. That's all I can say. Wow. Words can't describe it. It was like a movie or something. I bet you all are really proud of her, huh? I am, too, actually."

Usagi could feel Hotaru stiffening beneath her hand.

"My darling Firefly. My dear, sweet little sex-receptacle. You smell, you're ugly, and you're not much fun in the ol' sack, but you sure can turn traitor in the blink of an eye. Now _that's_ a talent."

Usagi's mouth dropped open. The others around her gasped as a collective unit, hands flying automatically to mouths. Even the normally composed Makoto looked thrown. Such arrogance. Such plain hatred for all things White Moon. It was unbelievable. Even down and out, seriously injured, maybe even near death, he was still holding on to this misguided notion that he was a king – a toppled king, defeated by lowly peasants, but a supreme ruler nonetheless. His contempt was palpable. Especially for Hotaru, now that she had, in his words, turned traitor.

The way he had just talked about her … it was incredible. Only a week ago, he and Hotaru had been the best of friends, indistinguishable from any other teenage love duo. Their relationship had seemed the perfect schematic for the sleek, new 21st century idea of romance – each member having an equal share of respect in the pairing, an equal voice, the notion that lasting love was dependent on friendship first and keeping the channels of communication open.

Satoshi and Hotaru. They had looked so good together on the outside.

Now, returning back to herself, Usagi felt Hotaru trying to wiggle out from under her hands, and, out of respect for the girl, she released her grip. She understood how embarrassed she must've been feeling.

Meanwhile, Makoto had found her center again and was now towering over the sprawled Death Phantom with a not-so-amused look on her face. The others hadn't quite recuperated yet. But leave it to Mako-chan to provide enough scolding for everyone.

"You got a lot of nerve," she said, her tone severely authoritarian. And Usagi, watching the confrontation take place, could easily picture her at the head of a disruptive class, quelling any and all naughty behavior with the mere tilt of her head, or perhaps as the head warden of a women's maximum-security prison. She fit perfectly into either role. Makoto Kino suffered no fools.

"You need a reality-check, that's what I think you need. A big dose of wake-up. Look around, take stock of your situation and let's see if you're feeling so big and bad after that. Your followers are gone. Do you see that? Huh? They just up and left the minute things were looking bad, didn't they?" Now it was her turn to laugh. "So much for loyalty, huh? Oh, and your so-called 'Master'? Looks like he's abandoned you, too."

What? Could … could it be? Usagi flickered her eyes upward, hoping against all reason that she'd heard correctly.

She had.

Though overcast, and without a single star to be seen, the night sky was blissfully unmarred by a single supernatural flame or ember. Usagi felt her stomach loosen itself. She allowed herself a great sigh of release. Chaos was gone. Not defeated, mind – it still being an invincible force of nature, after all, but _gone_. And gone was good. Gone was great. It meant temporary peace. For it would return. Someday. Possibly in the distant future when it had fully recovered from the beating it had taken at the Galaxy Cauldron, its power once again at maximum. And Usagi found that she could live with that knowledge. Because neither was she prepared for that final battle – that epic last stand, the forces of Good pitted once and for all against the armies of Evil. She could wait. She would and, further, she would enjoy whatever time she had between now and then.

For Chaos had fled but would someday return. Stronger and more powerful than ever. Arriving when least expected, attacking swiftly and without warning.

Usagi forced her eyes back to ground level. She would deal with the resurgence of Chaos when the time came. For now, though –

"So, in other words, you're pretty much up the creek, buddy," Makoto continued. "Now just to wrap this up, you're powerless, totally without friends and completely dependent on our mercy. How's that grab ya?"

Then, as a closing remark of sorts, Makoto preformed a delightful obscene hand gesture, effectively bringing an end to the conversation. She was absorbed back into the group amid a smattering of applause. Usagi joined in, her hands coming together almost automatically. Not her best work, but what pretty good for such short notice.

Following Makoto's lashing, there was a silence, falsely reassuring in its prolonged duration. Then the laughter started in again, only louder, more boisterous than ever. At the sound, Makoto halted dead in her tracks and glared back, plainly upset that her stern lecture hadn't had the desired effect.

Haruka waved a hand at Makoto. "Don't let him bother you. He's delusional."

" 'Crazy' might be a better description," peeped Ami from somewhere in the back.

Murmurs of agreement reinforced this idea.

"I just want you to know," Haruka said, stepping forward, her fiery gaze narrowed at Death Phantom, "that you've caused everyone here a lot of pain. A lot of hurt. You've toyed with people's lives as if they were nothing. You've leveled a city, killed thousands, played with the emotions of Hotaru, _who I consider to be my daughter_-"

_Crack, crack_ went the knuckles of her hand.

"- and I'm going to enjoy making you see the error of your ways." She grinned joylessly. "We're going to engage in some intense therapy, me and you. So brace yourself. That's all I gotta say."

Another step forward, bending at the waist, hands already grasping for her soon-to-be punching bag.

And again, the laughter. Maddening. Like a pin piercing the eardrum. Like a blasphemy against everything sacred.

"Oh, please. Was that supposed to scare me? Is that how you've dealt with your foes in the past? You _intimidate_ them to death? Nice try, but it's not going to work with me. I know my place, you see. I'm confident in my power. And I know you can't hurt me beyond what I allow. Besides…" He trailed off, as if contemplating something. Then: "Truth to tell, I have an ace hidden away – a card that I haven't yet played to the fullest. I _was_ going to keep it a secret, but I simply can't resist!"

A lengthy hush followed this, like the suspenseful buildup to a major climax. To a major revelation.

"The asteroid," he said simply, delivering the climax in such an understated fashion that the true implication of the word was initially lost on Usagi. "Or have you forgotten about that little detail?"

It was as if somebody had spat in her face. The asteroid. The asteroid that, in the original timeline, had brought about the creation of Crystal Tokyo. The asteroid that, in _this_ timeline, was hurtling down upon them even now.

She _had_ forgotten.

With all the other stuff going on around her, the matter of the asteroid had been pushed to the mental backburner while she attended to the other, more pressing troubles of the night. And somewhere along the way, she had misplaced that particular file. But now all the details came flooding back. An asteroid roughly the size of India, streaking through the void of space on an irreversible crash-course with earth. And the death toll ... Usagi's mind stumbled at the number. What had it been? Six billion? That sounded about right. Six billion people dead. It was staggering when thought about in regard to the sheer number alone, but when you attached a name, a face, a back-story to each empty figure, it quickly went from "staggering" to "overwhelming."

A ten-digit death toll. Usagi couldn't quite wrap her fragile mind around it. But she knew one thing for sure – should the asteroid make impact, the destruction of Tokyo would be of no more importance than a pebble amongst the face of a mountain. What would the ruin of one city matter when compared to the utter annihilation of the entire planet?

She saw it as it would surely unfold: the earth, a blue crystal orb against the black backdrop of space – spinning peacefully on its axis, enjoying the merry-go-round ride around the sun, oblivious to the impending horror. Then enter giant, extinction-sized asteroid stage right. She saw it appearing from thin air, as if birthed by the very fabric of the universe, a massive, free-floating continent without a planet to call its own. Next, having spotted earth, the rocky mass moves in closer, as if fascinated by this curious ball teeming with life. But as it dips closer, gravity takes over and the asteroid is soon caught in a lethal trajectory, tumbling down through the atmosphere, a flaming death sentence. Then, collision. Usagi envisioned it like so: the planet Earth busting open like a smashed pumpkin, spewing its seeds of molten lava up into the blackness. The pale white face of the moon suddenly blazing orange. Then the two cracked halves of the earth (now a charred black) drifting downward into eternal abyss – the former location of the planet now an empty void, serving as a graveyard for six billion souls.

At least that's the way Usagi saw it. She wasn't a rocket scientist nor did she harbor anything more than a passing interest in astronomy, but for her, the vision rang true.

Six billion people dying at once…. That was the part she couldn't get past. She wondered if they'd even have a chance to scream.

_They? What's this "they" stuff? If this thing hits, you're gonna be waving goodbye along with the rest of 'em, you know!_

How true.

But wait! Wasn't there at least a faint shred of hope? Yes! Usagi's brain snatched at it as if it might flutter away, leaving her once again despairing.

They had time. Four years of it. Yes! She could remember that little detail most clearly now. Wiseman had prophesized that the fated asteroid impact would not occur until sometime four years from now. Usagi exhaled a shallow breath, the color gradually returning to her cheeks. To be perfectly honest, she felt a little silly for having nearly fallen for Death Phantom's final and perhaps most desperate trick. But now she was able to relax. She found herself able to breathe again. Four years. That was a long time. Surely something could be decided in the 1,460 days between now and then. Four years would be more than enough time to figure a way out.

Then, as if reading her mind (and wasn't that sort of his shtick, anyway?), Death Phantom managed to shatter that one last hope with one spoken sentence. "It's clearing the orbit of Mars now," he said in an offhanded manner, as though he were making some causal comment about the weather. "By my approximation, we should expect fiery Armageddon within the next few minutes or so."

Hearing this, Usagi's face lost all poise. She could feel her the corners of her mouth sliding down like melting candle wax. Her eyes grew large with something that could've been either disbelief or dull acceptance. She made no attempt to retain composure. She'd been floored.

Down near her feet, Death Phantom let loose with a sigh that was almost erotic in nature. "That's it. That's the look I was hoping for. That look of stupid shock on your face. Of knowing that you're completely helpless to stop what's coming next. _Now_ you may kill me if you wish. Now that I've seen you broken and powerless, I have nothing left to live for. But it was all worth it … just to … see that look on your face…"

"But we still have time," Usagi said, her voice coming out toneless and robotic. "Four years…"

This elicited a new bout of laughter. "Dear Princess! Your childlike naivety never ceases to amuse me! I see I must explain things more fully, then. To begin with, I have … sped up the timetable somewhat. With the help of that planet Nemesis, the star of darkness, whose power it is to warp space and time, I have been drawing the asteroid ever closer to us through a series of bends in the time / space fabric. What should have taken years will now occur in a matter of moments. That is the power of Nemesis and its Crystal, the Black Poison Crystal. With that being said, however, this entire thing was a ruse. This battle between you and I, the devastation of Tokyo, the murder of an untold number of innocents – it was all an elaborate hoax of sorts. A mere distraction to bide the time until the _real_ showstopper arrived."

Usagi listened. She could feel a vibration against her ear and she understood that it must be words, but she could not make sense of them or process the string of vowel / consonant repetitions in any intelligent manner.

"How does that make you feel, Princess?" Death Phantom softly inquired. "To know that all this was for naught? The deaths meaningless? To understand that your mother and father died for nothing and that, no matter how hard you might wish otherwise, they're never, never, _ever_ coming back?"

Usagi said nothing.

"You know, I seriously doubt you have what it takes to be an effective ruler. A strong leader knows when to hold them and when to fold them. Or however the saying goes. An up-and-coming queen mustn't be afraid of taking some risks. And that's where you falter, if you don't mind my saying so. You're afraid of a little sacrifice. You're too weak, to put it bluntly."

Shadows danced behind Usagi, their elongated forms tickling her feet. _My friends_, she thought. _They're here with me. At my side, like they always are. _But somehow, this thought failed to produce the reassurance it usually did.

"And now," said Death Phantom, "If you'll excuse me. I wish to be left alone with my happy thoughts. Good night." And with that, he wrapped himself deeper into his cloak like a little child snuggling in for bed and fell asleep.

Not knowing what to say or do, Usagi continued to stare at the crinkled mess of purple at her feet. As a means of encouragement, she rhythmically counted off the passing seconds. _One, two, three, four… _Never before had life seemed so fragile, the passing of time so quick. Now, with the knowledge that they – this planet and all the people in it – had only minutes to live, she found herself recording the passage of her life in heartbeats, each squeezing pulse counting off another precious second, striking it from the others. Counting down. _Eighteen, nineteen, twenty..._

A wave of vertigo struck her then, putting an end to the counting exercises.

"What are we going to do?"

A voice. A voice sailing to her through waves of nausea. It sounded like Mianko.

Usagi swallowed and looked up toward the sky. She didn't _see_ anything out of the ordinary. But then it _was_ overcast and even if it weren't, they probably wouldn't see _it_ until it was too late, anyway.

Lowering her head, Usagi let out a moan that should've served as all the answer they needed. "I don't know. I don't know what to do."

There was a beat of silence while Minako contemplated this. Then she was at it again, straining her voice so that it actually sounded somewhat bubbly. "Oh, that's okay. Don't fret your pretty little head about it. I forgot we have a genius on the team. Ami can devise a strategy. Ami, devise a strategy!" The last part, meant to be amusing, came off sounding a tad frantic despite Minako's best intentions.

The humor, forced or otherwise, was apparently lost on Ami, who immediately set out to devise the foolproof strategy that had been requested of her. "Well, it'll take me a moment or two to think of something, you understand. Let's see…" she trailed off, her chin between two fingers, her brow wrinkled with the effort of solving an impossible equation. Usagi watched her intently, fighting hard against the urge to break out into hysterical laughter.

Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then five more, bringing the total wasted time up to a scandalous fifteen seconds. Then, just when they were closing in on twenty, Ami shrugged her shoulders and flung her hands up in the air. "I'm sorry. There are just too many unknown variables."

The mood, which had been cautiously optimistic, deflated.

"I'm sorry. I know there must be a way – there's always a way – but I can't reach any conclusion. Maybe if I had more time, or if I knew more about the statistics of the asteroid – it's velocity, its precise dimensions... As it is though…"

"It's okay," Minako said, patting her friend on the shoulder. Now she made no effort at concealing her true tone, which was, in a word (or two), utterly discouraged.

Then, from another world away, Usagi heard the voice of her brother, asking her a question fueled by a childlike innocence that outmatched her own. "Well, _you_ can do it, can't you?"

He was standing between Luna and Artemis, balancing precariously on a small hill of broken plywood and twisted metal. And the expression on his face was a picture-perfect example of the kind of blind faith you always hear about but never see, except for in the eyes of only the very youngest of children.

_Well, _you_ can do it, can't you? _Meaning: _If you can't do it, who can? _

That question, asked with such confidence, as if a positive response were a foregone conclusion.

"Yes," Usagi said, the word tumbling from her mouth before she even realized she'd spoken. "I'll put a stop to it. You'll see." She nodded at Shingo and smiled. "Don't doubt your big sister."

_Because I'm the invincible Sailor Moon, _she thought, training her gaze once again to the cloudy skies above.

And then, because the other obnoxious voice in her mind just wouldn't shut up: _Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll trick yourself into believing it. _

No. Intent on doing what had to be done, Usagi turned a deaf ear to her negative inner voices. It had fallen on her to save the day and she fully intended on following through with that. She hadn't planned on using the Silver Crystal again so soon after having its energies nearly depleted, but it couldn't be helped. Re-activation of the Crystal this soon would be risky – to the extreme (death being a very real possibility), but what was the alternative? Mass extinction? Eternal famine? Knowing this, the certainty of the events that would transpire should no action be taken, Usagi became resolute.

Silver Crystal in hand, her mind made up, Usagi opened her mouth to commence with the many goodbyes that must be given before she could follow through with the salvation of the world. And she _would _be going through with it, even _if_ Mamoru protested. Because what was one life compared to six billion? How could anyone argue her life to be any more important than the multitude of others scattered across the planet?

So, with farewell on her lips, she turned to her friends and said goodbye … or would've, had not a voice (a female voice, but not one that could be instantly matched with a name) interceded at that critical moment, causing Usagi to halt in her tracks:

"Hey, where's Hotaru?"

Such an offhanded question, asked in such a casual manner. Easy to miss. But somehow Usagi heard it distinctly, above everything else. _Hotaru, Hotaru, where was Hotaru?_

Well, gone, for starters. One had only to look at the child-sized hole next to Haruka to figure that out. But where was she, then? Where had Hotaru run off to?

Then, for some unexplained reason, Usagi's attention was turned skyward and she knew. Looking up, gazing through the hazy clouds above, beyond the black reaches of space, she knew. All at once, she understood where Hotaru had gone and what her plan was. And she hoped, she prayed, that it wasn't too late to stop her.


	28. Chapter 25 part II

…

As it turned out, the rumors were true. Space _was_ cold. Even enclosed within a transparent dome of air, protected from the crushing pressures and the vacuum, Hotaru still registered a knifelike chill that sliced through the skin, penetrating deep to the bone. But she ignored it, relegating that discomfort to the recesses of her mind. She needed to stay focused. Nevertheless, about three minutes into her celestial journey, she found her concentration wavering.

She hadn't said goodbye. That was the only thing she halfway regretted. That was the one thing her mind kept turning back to. Her friends. Her family. All those she had left behind. On that blue planet of life.

Almost in spite of herself, Hotaru felt her neck twisting and before she could make sense of the movement, she found herself to be staring back at the earth. It loomed large and dominant in her violet eyes, reducing the neighboring stars to shimmering dust particles. It seemed to be hanging by an invisible string, a crystal pendulum leisurely spinning by its own accord, indifferent to its surroundings. Compared to the other celestial bodies in the area - the sun with its blinding radiance, the moon with its plain, scarred surface – the earth looked wonderfully complex. From her stance above the planet, hovering in place on the wings of an angel, Hotaru could see all its marvelous workings. The green-brown continents. From this far away, they seemed rather like massive islands. The random swirls of white, which weren't really random at all but rather part of a complex system of air currents crisscrossing the planet in an invisible grid pattern. The vast oceans of blue. So clear. So tranquil.

And suddenly, Hotaru's perception changed. It seemed to her then that she wasn't looking back at a planet, but rather that she had somehow breeched a barrier of some kind and was now gazing upon a whole other plane of existence. And for some reason, that peculiar notion brought a tear to her eye.

Another plane of existence. Yes, that summed up things pretty well, to think of earth as an unreachable dimension, as an ultra-exclusive club.

Too bad Hotaru had misplaced her member's pass.

_They'd forgive you. You know they would._

Possibly. Probably they already had, if the question of her guilt had even entered their minds. They were good people that way. Except it wasn't about forgiveness. At least not anymore. Now it was about penance.

_Just go back and try talking to them, _a desperate mind cut in._ Explain how you feel! Aren't they your friends?_

No. It wouldn't be that simple. Primarily because Hotaru didn't know exactly how she was feeling. If pressed to articulate the mudslide of emotions within her, she would have balked. There were so many, so many painful feelings circling around and around in her head. Much like water in a drain except maybe that was a poor simile because the hurt wasn't _going_ anywhere. Instead of being flushed from her system, they were lingering in place, growing stagnant. Sorrow giving birth to anger. Anger maturing into depression. Depression metamorphosing into something too bleak for words.

Satoshi. If you had to lay blame (not that Hotaru would ever _dream_ of doing such a thing), it would rest on him. Satoshi Yomata, wearer of a hundred hats, none of them good. Just the mere thought of the name brought a heated blush to Hotaru's face. Only this time, she wasn't experiencing the fluttering butterflies of a first romance. This time she was _mad_. Bad enough that he had lied to her regarding his feelings, bad enough that he had faked the kisses and the hugs – that the gifts and trinkets he had showered upon her had been nothing but props – but he had also used her. Used her. Like a mere object, a soulless mechanism to further his own agenda.

But that wasn't so surprising. Giving her past history with such maltreatments, one would've thought she'd be used to it by now. Her whole life had been nothing but a series of tragedies, the people in her life nothing but a parade of smirking faces, simultaneously amused and indifferent toward her and her life struggles.

_Now you know that's not true. Okay, yes, your father proved to be a monster, your first real boyfriend, too. But saying you've never experienced genuine love? Come on! Or have you forgotten about Haruka? What about Michiru? Setsuna?_

Hotaru's eyes slowly closed, the earth beyond shimmering blue against a veil of tears. Then it was gone. Lost behind her closed eyelids. Out of sight, out of mind.

_And Usagi…_

Eyes still closed, Hotaru re-adjusted her grip on the Silence Glaive and, with a heavy _flap_ of her wings, turned her back to earth. The moon, in all of its silvery glory, sailed away beneath her and Hotaru, flying above it, did not risk a glance downward. For the moon's face was Usagi's face and peering into those loving eyes of hers, no matter the form, was too difficult a thing to bear.

_She would have forgiven you._

Yes, she was quite sure of that now. But again, it wasn't about that. Besides, her destination was elsewhere. Right … there, as a matter of fact.

Hotaru's fist crazy thought upon seeing the asteroid was that a portion of the fabric of space had been cut away, as if my some godly-size pair of scissors. For there were no stars twinkling before her eyes. Everything past the moon existed as flat blackness, as featureless as a sheet of black construction paper. Hotaru's second crazy thought was that maybe she had taken a wrong turn somewhere and had somehow ended up at the edge of the universe. But one look down at the moon debunked that theory. Then what…

It only took a few seconds for her to piece together the puzzle. She was looking at the asteroid. This was it – the herald of humankind's extinction. Hotaru gawked at it open-mouthed. It was gigantic. No, more than gigantic. It seemed to stretch from one end of space to the other, filling the infinite void, too massive a thing to even comprehend.

And for the first time since coming to this decision, Hotaru found herself doubting if she could pull it off. Not due to a lack of courage or a dwindling sense of duty, but because the thing looked so _huge_, thus making the prospect of actually going through with her plan seem rather daunting – if not impossible. But she had a mind to try anyway. Because that was the Sailor Soldier's only rule: to at least try. Try, even when the odds are unfavorable and the outlook is bleak.

_Forget about 'trying', _a resolute Hotaru mused as she guiding herself toward the asteroid. _I'm going to do it. Sailor Saturn saving the world. _She smiled grimly at the idea, smiled because for the first time, it _would_ be her saving the world and not the Sailor Saturn persona. No, for she had destroyed the parasite –

_It wasn't a parasite. That's Satoshi talking. It was a spirit. A kind, protecting spirit. _

Fine. A spirit, then. But no matter what you called it, the fact remained that she had killed it. Or destroyed it. Or however you wanted to put it. It was gone, never to return, and now the full power of Saturn was Hotaru's – all the spoils of the Planet of Destruction were now available to her to use as she saw fit, now for the very first time. And she had a pretty good idea how she was going to use them. She liked to think of her upcoming performance as the grand finale to a play that had been going on for far too long. 

A series of rapid wing-flutters brought the descending Hotaru to the rocky, uneven floor of the asteroid.

The surface looked much as she had pictured it: a flat, desolate landscape of craggy mountains and deep, winding chasms (one of which she was standing in now). An alien landscape if ever there was one, void of life. Cold. Dark. So why did it look so familiar?

It took her only a moment to figure it out. It was the canyon from her dreams. The very same one. The towering monoliths of rock, the nearby caves, gaping like open mouths, the dry gorge she was standing in now – she had seen them all before. This was the place where she had done battle with Sailor Saturn and emerged victorious. Only the sky above was different.

This sudden understanding left Hotaru nonplussed. What did it matter either way? It was the asteroid, it was the place from her vision, it was an alternate universe Tokyo, it was a sneak peek of the post-apocalyptic Tokyo that would come to pass if the future remained unaltered – all reasonable interpretations, but interpretations that Hotaru dismissed. Such things like the nature of reality had ceased to matter to her. All she knew for sure was that this location, this black chunk of stony space debris, would soon prove to be her final resting place.

With that in mind, and with the earth growing larger by the second (transforming from a blue marble, to a ping pong ball, to a softball), Hotaru, Sailor Saturn, took the Silence Glaive by its polished pole and raised it aloft.

It has been said that in space no one can hear you scream. The same could be said for any form of verbal communication. Something to do with the lack of air molecules to transmit sound waves. But now, in utter defiance of the laws of physics, a lone voice rang out, smashing across the unearthly terrain - each word pulsating with a heart-wrenching grief so real and thick it would've moved even the lowest life form to tears. It was an attack command, a battle cry. Yet also a final goodbye, spoken by suicidal lips.

_"DEATH REBORN REVOLUTION!!" _

Each word echoed through the winding gorge as a separate desperate scream. And even as the last reverberations were sounding off the far mountains, the very floor of the asteroid split, like a sheet of paper being torn from top to bottom, and from the gap a flurry of writhing white …. _things_ burst forth. Given the exotic surroundings in which this was taking place, the first thought of the casual observer (had there been one to witness this) would've been that maybe these were worms of some kind. A strange new flat variety, rising to the surface perhaps to feed. Except a closer look would negate this. They weren't worms at all, but rather _ribbons. _White ribbons, millions of them – perhaps billions – streaming up from the crevasses of the asteroid, as if the thing were nothing but a continent-sized piñata that had been smashed, dispensing confetti everywhere. They came zipping out from the ground, from within the caves, twirling around the towering peaks, simple white ribbons, unfurling yard after impossible yard.

Hotaru remained motionless. Her posture had not changed in the slightest. Her arms remained outstretched above her head. Her hands continued to hold the Silence Glaive. Only her eyes, which had been open before, were now closed. She neither saw nor heard. Her closed eyelids prevented her from seeing, the vacuum of space from hearing. But she felt the destruction around her. She could feel the asteroid shaking beneath her heels. Mountains fell and each collapse registered as a hollow thudding that rattled her teeth and sent her heart into palpitations.

Had Hotaru opened her eyes, she would have discovered that now the ribbons had multiplied over a thousand-fold in number and had now totally enwrapped the asteroid like a cocoon. She would have seen the bands flapping toward her, would've perhaps made some move to save herself.

Or not.

But she _was_ aware of the asteroid slowing to a stop. Like everything else, she could feel it. Sense it. Just as she now felt the smooth silk of the ribbons tickling over her body. They wound up her arms like leeches thirsting for blood, wriggling between her fingers, wrapping themselves around her neck and head. Yet she made no move to resist the mummification. This was what she had wanted, after all.

The seconds passed. The asteroid, once a lethal instrument of mass death, remained motionless, now just another chuck of space matter floating around in the universe.

She had succeeded. But only partially.

For the Glaive remained aloft.

Then it dropped. The hands holding it simply released their grip on the polished bar and down it tumbled. But in slow motion – the lack of gravity prolonging the moment. Its leisurely descent gave Hotaru time to think.

_Bring an end to this world,_ she prayed. _But this time, let death be the final word. Just this once, let there be no rebirth. _

And then the hooked tip of the Silence Glaive made gentle contact with the floor of the asteroid, sweeping up a small plume of dust.

…. The explosion was great and silent, visible even from the orbit of Saturn.

…

All was white. Hotaru knew this even with closed eyes. Somehow she could feel it, just as she had felt the other things. Then she opened her eyes and found without surprise that it was so. She was floating – hovering in place amid a white plane of nothingness that very closely resembled the black expanse of space in its flatness and infinite reaches. Except this place seemed lonelier. Sadder, somehow.

Looking down, Hotaru discovered that her Sailor uniform had vanished. In its place, she now wore a simple white sundress, secured to her shoulders by ribbons. She was also barefoot.

Somewhat confused, Hotaru leveled her gaze once more. Where was she? What was this place? Heaven? No, that didn't seem possible given her bad behavior as of late. But where, then? Hell? Some quasi limbo dimension? Hotaru frowned. She _had_ been hoping for merciful non-existence following death, that her life would be snuffed out like a candle and that her consciousness would not continue on in any form. But apparently that wasn't an option. Talk about cruel ironies. Now she would have to live with herself, with what she had done, for all eternity.

Hotaru sighed and buried her face in open hands. There was a word for this, wasn't there? There had to be. What -

Ah. Poetic justice.

Yes, this was a fitting punishment for the many misdeeds she had committed in life. And hadn't she wanted to be punished?

Lowering her hands and raising her head in unison, she came to a decision: that if this were her sentence, she would suffer through it gladly. She would mark every passing minute grieving for those who had died because of her. She would chronicle every lingering moment of her own continued existence with aching remorse. She would cherish the whiteness of death and find beautiful atonement in it.

But even so, forever was a long time. Hotaru tried to picture it – an eternity of nothingness, of emptiness, of just being alone – and found that she could not do it. It was simply too complex a thing for her mind to grasp, even in death.

_So much for enlightenment, _she thought drearily before breaking down into wracking sobs. She felt terrible. Worse than she had ever felt before. Tears ran down her cheeks in rushing streams, overflowing from each eye like a burst dam. Some feel on her funeral dress, spotting the white fabric gray. A few cool droplets landed on her arms. She did not wipe them off. She did not dry her eyes. This was part of her necessary punishment. But gradually her eyes began to loose their focus and her face took on a hollow expression and she became as a mannequin – looking ahead with blind eyes, her body frozen in a pre-set stance. And she probably would've remained in that position for a long time had it not been for one thing.

A soft noise.

Hotaru's stiff body jerked at the sound. Her vague eyes snapped back to attention.

Nothing.

Hotaru remained in place, her joints locked. Had she heard something? Had there been a sound of some kind? She felt sure there had been, and she began to feel … afraid. Because this was the abyss of death, was it not? By the look of things, this appeared to be a special realm of endless torture created especially for her. Who, then, could this be intruding on her? The Devil?

The sound again: a soft rusting, like fabric.

No …. No, not the Devil. Hotaru squinted, trying to make out a shape amid the white. Ah! There, just there! A humanoid figure, no more than a hazy outline, emerging from the nothingness. It was … It was an _angel_. You only had to look at the flowing cascade of hair swirling about the figure. And the wings. The wings gave the game away.

Could it be? Was this Heaven after all? Hotaru felt a momentary swell of gladness but then forced it away. It this _was_ Heaven, if that _was_ an angel, she would smile and nod and say, "Thanks, but no thanks." She didn't deserve unwarranted grace. So with her mind made up, Hotaru watched with her arms crossed as the longhaired winged angel approached her.

It came gliding toward her with an almost ghostly grace, its form and features becoming more and more defined the closer it came. Now Hotaru could see that it was dressed in a gauzy white gown, that its hair was shimmering silver and that the wings weren't wings at all, but was rather a large bow attached to the back of the –

_Oh, no. _Hotaru's arms came tumbling down from their defiant position across her chest. Her mouth dropped open. She stared, disbelieving. It was Usagi. Or Princess Serenity, rather. The Princess herself, walking right toward her, shining with blameless glory, the mark of the Silver Millennium a golden crescent against a sea of white.

A gentle, almost shy smile touched the lips of the Princess then. She took a few more dainty strides forward and then stopped an arm's-length away. Her wide blue eyes had a look to them that was hard to read.

The two women regarded each other in silence. Hotaru was surprised, but also angry. She felt as if she'd been caught in the midst of some disgusting act, as if the Princess had walked in on her during bathroom time, with her pants around her ankles. And then she understood that it wasn't anger that she was feeling but a very heavy sense of shame. Knowing this, Hotaru forced her eyes away from the Princess. She lowered her head.

The seconds dragged on. Hotaru could feel eyes looking her over. Those loving blue eyes sparkling with still-intact innocence. It was unbearable to withstand. She knew those eyes were judging her and she knew what the verdict would be. Guilty. She knew. That's why she had left without saying goodbye. She was aware of all the bad things she had done and she didn't need anybody else bringing them up. _Just go away! _she wanted to scream. _I know I failed – as a Sailor Solider, as a human being – I _know_. That's why did what I did. I gave up my life, what more do you want from me?! _

Then Princess Serenity spoke. And her words weren't at all what Hotaru had been expecting.

"That was a very brave thing you did, Hotaru. A very brave thing."

What was this, sarcasm? Her mouth set into a frown, Hotaru peeked back up into the Princess' face. No, not sarcasm. What she saw being reflected back at her was utter sincerity.

"You saved the world, you saved _me _-" Serenity shook her head, temporarily overcome, and continued. " – and you saved the lives of _six billion people_. You did a great thing, Hotaru. You should be proud."

Hotaru shrugged the praise off like dandruff. She was trying very hard to appear indifferent. Even her body language, slumped yet stiff, projected a nonverbal _"Don't mess with me" _message.

Realizing that it was now her turn to speak, she volleyed with: "So am I dead?"

A beat of silence. "Well, yes and no." Serenity paused to allow for any questions, then seeing that there would be none, began to explain. "In destroying the asteroid, you also destroyed yourself – but then, you aren't fully dead, either. This is a crossroads."

"A crossroads?"

Princess Serenity nodded slightly, her expression suddenly grave. "Between life and death."

Hotaru considered this. It seemed right, somehow. _Of course it does, _she retorted angrily back at herself. _The Princess said so, didn't she? And she NEVER lies._

She gasped a little at the hidden venom flowing through her thoughts. Could it be that a portion of Sailor Nemesis still lurked within her? Maybe once you allowed evil in, it can never be fully exorcised. A depressing thought, making her regrets all the more poignant. Why had she allowed herself to become so close to Satoshi? A part of her (the majority portion, in fact) wanted to blame the whole affair on mind-control and sorcery, but…

"So why are you here?"

Serenity smiled sheepishly and brought her hands up chin-level. "Well, to be honest, I arranged all this. I know you think …. Well, it's obvious you feel …." After a few moments of stumbling around for words and getting nowhere, the Princess sighed. Her shoulders slumped forward. "I just didn't want you to die."

The undead Hotaru said nothing. She suddenly felt like the butt of a joke whose punch line had yet to be revealed. Because this couldn't be right … could it? The Princess expressing concern for _her? _After all the horrible things she had done? Where was the yelling, the screaming, the parental lecture? She waited for it, but it never came.

"You've had a hard life, Hotaru."

Still unsure what to think about this whole situation, Hotaru maintained the carefully crafted blank expression on her face. A whole slew of bizarre, conflicting feelings had descended upon her, and until she had straightened them all out, she wasn't about to give the Princess any indication of what she was thinking. That would be giving the game away.

"You've endured _more_ than your fair share of heartache. Life dealt you such an unfair hand. Yet you persisted. You fought through your pain with a strength I know _I_ couldn't have mustered." At this point the soft voice paused and remained still for several seconds. Then, reluctantly, it whispered the following: "But I guess even the strongest among us have their breaking points, too, huh?"

That voice. That sweet voice. Not taunting or condescending, but full of kindness and compassion. It was enough to grab Hotaru's full attention. The faux wooden expression vanished at once from her face. Her mouth trembling, only barely managing to suppress the sob that lingered on the other side, she peered into Serenity's eyes and found the thing she had wanted to see in another person all her life. Not sympathy, not pity, but simple understanding.

And then came the showstopper.

"It's my fault."

Upon hearing this, Hotaru lost all semblance of facial control. Her jaws unhinged somewhat violently, sending a trail of spittle flying out of her mouth like a pebble fired from a slingshot. A tiny laugh escaped. _Now_ she got it. It _was_ a joke after all. How else could you explain it? Looking at Princess Serenity was like looking at a distorted reflection of herself - because she was everything Hotaru was not. The Princess had it all: stunning looks, incredible power through the Silver Crystal, loving friends, and a devoted boyfriend. She existed in a realm separate and apart from sinful man. And here she was admitting that she had somehow wronged someone? That she had wronged _Hotaru_, who thought herself perhaps the worst of the worst? No. Impossible. It had to be a joke.

As if sensing Hotaru's incredulousness, Serenity smiled and the very act of turning up the corners of her mouth brought her down a few levels. Not quite down to the plane of mere mortals, but maybe a notch or two below "deity".

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

Hotaru felt her head bounce in a nod.

Serenity's smile grew wider and she actually bowed slightly as if to thank Hotaru for the privilege of speaking. "Somebody told me this a while ago and I've believed it ever since: If you're weak, it's okay to be protected. If you're going through a rough patch in your life, it's okay to accept help. There's nothing shameful about it. That's the way we grow and become stronger. Life is a curious thing. Sometimes it's beautiful and other times all we can do is put our hands over our eyes and wait the bad parts out. As human beings, it's our duty to help others through those tough times.

"But when nobody's _offering_ you help, you're forced to go at it alone and when we do that, we're always more likely to loose our way."

Yes. Sometimes it certainly seemed that way. She was making perfect sense so far.

Once again, Serenity's voice faltered and remained hushed for the longest period yet. And when the Princess found the strength to speak again, her words were raspy and wet, barely comprehensible. "I failed you, Hotaru. I knew you were hurting and yet I did nothing to help you. I was so caught up in my own life, my own selfish goals and trivial relationships. In not offering you help in your time of suffering, I failed in my duty as a human being. But worse, I failed you as your friend."

Then came a string of words Hotaru had not been expecting _at all_.

"All I can offer up in my defense is petty selfishness. All I can ask is for your undeserved forgiveness."

Undeserved forgiveness? Had she heard correctly? Who was speaking to whom here? Feeling both faintly amused and utterly dumbfounded, Hotaru shook her head slowly from side to side, as if trying to regain her bearings after a sudden wave of dizziness. _I think you've got things a little backwards._

She must have said it aloud, for Serenity answered her.

"We all have our faults, Hotaru. Nobody's perfect."

_Yeah, but some of us are more perfect than others, _Hotaru mused, taken aback once more by the vicious tone of her thoughts.

"You've lived a hard life," the Princess continued. "Nobody can deny that. You missed out on so many experiences others take for granted. Like love. Like being part of a family. You've never experienced an act of kindness that didn't have some ulterior motive behind it. Given that, a few slip-ups every once in awhile is understandable. Nobody blames you for wanting to fall in love. Nobody blames you for falling under the influence of a smooth-talking liar."

Hotaru nodded and lowered her head. On some level she heard what was being said – that her poor decisions had not been the result of some inherent personality flaw, but rather the expected result of a lifetime of hardship and abuse. Anybody else with her background would've reacted in the exact same way if faced with the same circumstances. But there was another part of her that refused to accept this. Bad Hotaru had reared her ugly head and was not about to let the guilt go that easily.

For as long as she could remember, she had thought herself somewhat schizophrenic. From her earliest memory to the present, she had been under the impression that there were, in fact, two Hotarus residing within her. On the one hand, you had Good Hotaru, who wasn't so much good as she was timid and indecisive. Then on the other end of the spectrum was Bad Hotaru, the part of her that took masochistic pleasure in her failings, who delighted in self-loathing, whose only joy in life was finding new and inventive ways to erode her already frail self-esteem. The two personas existed side by side, warring constantly, their incessant feuding having long since laid waste to Hotaru's mind. Occasionally, however, truces were declared and in those rare moments of respite, a _third_ Hotaru emerged from the smoldering battlefield. This new Hotaru was unlike the previous two. This Hotaru had confidence. This Hotaru loved to laugh and have a good time.

"Hotaru?"

'Course, she never lasted long. Sooner or later, inevitably, she would retreat to the place from which she had come and the two sparring Hotarus – the Good and the Bad – would take up their battle standards again.

"Hotaru?"

But then there had been that one time… That long period of prolonged peacefulness following her first encounter with Chibiusa.

At the mere thought of the name, Hotaru's lips formed themselves automatically into a smile.

It had lasted so long that she had been under the false impression that maybe the two halves of her personality had finally resolved their differences – that maybe the seldom-seen third Hotaru was going to be given permanent residence inside the brain. It had been a pretty thought, but one that had quickly crumbled following Chibiusa's return to the future.

_"Hotaru?" _

Ever since then, things had gotten worse. The two sides had taken up their war with a vengeance. And the outcome, whatever the end result, would be unfavorable no matter which side emerged victorious. Lifelong meekness, living in fear of the world and the people in it, or lasting self-hatred? Who could say which was the better trait? Given these choices, embracing death had seemed the most logical move to make. In fact –

"Hotaru, look at me."

The soft tone of the Princess' voice carried with it a gentle authority and Hotaru was helpless to act otherwise. Not wanting to, but unable to resist the warm, musical timbre of Serenity's words, she did as she was told.

"Nobody blames you, I can tell you that. But if it's forgiveness you seek, you have it. You _had_ it."

What happened next was unexpected. Up until this time, Hotaru had been listening in alternating bouts of honest attentiveness and polite interest. Now, however, something changed. A switch had been flipped in Hotaru's brain. Anger swept through her like a possessing demon, and within a millisecond of the first flare-up, it had totally seized control of her motor functions. For the time being at least, both Hotarus had teamed up and had set their sights on the Princess. For she had, in essence, struck the nail on the head.

_"Will you just shut up and listen to me?!"_

Serenity recoiled slightly from the shriek and brandished fists but did not turn to flee. She stood her ground. Like a therapist, or better yet, a patient friend, she remained in place and listened without interrupting – which, given the circumstances, was the best thing she could've done.

"Don't you _GET_ it? Don't you understand?! It's nice that I have your forgiveness! It's nice that you're willing to accept me back into the fold! I'm thrilled, _REALLY_ I am! But it's not – it doesn't -" A cry of inexpressible frustration forced its way from the pit of Hotaru's throat, then. She allowed herself only the shortest of pauses, swallowed in a hot lungful of air, and plowed relentlessly ahead. "You might forgive me, the others might forgive me, but the real trouble is _I can't forgive myself, okay?! _So don't-"

Then, just as quickly as it had overwhelmed her, the tidal wave of fury receded. Reality came inching back to her. Her surroundings finally struck her as authentic for the first time since Princess Serenity's unexpected arrival. She was floating in a crossroads between life and death. She existed now as a wraith, a disembodied spirit – neither dead nor alive. And here she was trying to justify –

Hotaru groaned. That last little outburst had depleted whatever energy she had been storing in reserve. Now she felt exhausted, tired beyond measure. She probably looked like crap, too. She knew for a fact that her nose was running (she could feel the cold snot leaking from both nostrils, could taste its sour flavor on her lips) and guessed that her eyes were all red and swollen as well. Meanwhile, there was the Princess standing only inches away, looking every bit the part of an exquisite Roman goddess – every feature perfectly aligned with the other, every strand of hair neatly in place…. Hotaru felt like a toad in the presence of a peacock.

She was so tired. She felt utterly spent. She wanted nothing more for this intervention to be over. But at the same time, she knew that she had started something and that she'd better finish it.

" – so don't think of this as a happy ending," she concluded weakly.

Serenity's answer was swift. Almost suspiciously so. Had she rehearsed certain lines before dropping in, trying to anticipate replies to _her_ replies? It seemed so. For her next response was quick and uninspired. "You were brainwashed."

"But I wasn't." Hotaru felt tears spawning at the corners of her eyes and blinked them away. This was the hardest part to admit. "I was in complete control the entire time. I knew what I was doing. I saw the bodies …. and …. and the burning buildings and …. I heard the cries for mercy, but…." She trailed off. She didn't have to finish the sentence. It was all very self-explanatory. "I knew what I was doing. I have nobody to blame but myself."

"It doesn't matter. It's the past."

Hotaru swept a clump of sweaty hair away from her forehead. She was beginning to feel a little like a hamster stuck on one of those plastic running wheels – scurrying day in and day out, yet succeeding in doing nothing but retreading the same ground over and over. "You're just saying that," she murmured.

Apparently this had not been part of the rehearsed script, this call-out, because for once, Serenity was speechless.

_That's right. Take the hint and leave me alone._

But then: "That's right, Hotaru. I _am_ just saying that."

Once more Hotaru was startled into lifting her head. She saw the Princess bend one leg in preparation for a step, then halt. It remained hooked at the knee, the joint poking subtlety at the flimsy fabric of her dress. She saw the glossy lips of the Princess part and then reseal themselves. She saw her hands reach out, dangling bracelets clinking, before retracting. But more than that, she saw tears in the Princess' blue eyes. These fell without restraint. "I told you before that you're at a crossroads. It's your choice now whether to return to the world you knew or venture on into death."

Life or death. When put in those definite terms, the choice got so much harder to make.

"But you're my friend, Hotaru. My best friend. If I could think of a trick you'd fall for, I'd use it. I'd say anything, _do_ anything to convince you to stay with us." A sad smile. "Still, it's your decision. And whatever you choose, I'll respect it."

"Thank you," said Hotaru dreamily. Determined to sort this matter out in quick order, she brought a thumb up to her mouth and began to chew absently on the nail.

" 'Course, I'm not going to leave until you make the _right_ decision."

Hotaru laughed. She couldn't help it. Something had changed in the Princess' face. It took her a while to pinpoint just what, but when she did finally figure it out, she nodded to herself the way a student might after solving a particular complex equation. Usagi had returned. Gone was the imposing stiff-backed goddess figure. The person standing before her now was her old friend Usagi, looking as if she had just been caught in an act of make-believe dress-up.

That picture struck her as extra funny and she chuckled again. Before long, both girls had dissolved into roaring fits of unabashed hysterics. And sometime during this carefree frenzy, it occurred to Hotaru that she had forgotten her woes, at least for the time being.

Of course, the instant this thought crossed her mind, the old hurt returned – but not as sharp as it _had_ been. Now it was nothing more than a dull ache grinding beneath the surface of more pleasant thoughts, more of an annoyance than anything else.

Could she live with it? That was the question. The Question that fueled the Great Choice. Life or death? Could she choose life over death knowing that the pain would never go away, not fully? _Don't think of this as a happy ending – _those had been her exact words, spoken not five minutes ago, and what awful words they were. Because they were true. This _wasn't_ a happy ending. Whatever choice made in the next few moments would serve as the start of _something else._

Life or death? Either choice had its own unique consequences. Returning to the world of the living would bring with it the danger of slipping into old habits. Doubtless the two Hotarus would reappear at some point in time and commence to battle each other as they always had. Death on the other hand, was the Great Unknown. And in some ways, fear of the unknown was infinitely more frightening than the old situations and troubles that had so plagued her in the past.

Hotaru shuddered. The white was cold.

She no longer had any desire for an eternity of suffering as a form of penance. No, Usagi had cleansed her of that. What bothered her now was trying to make the right decision. As selfish as it might have sounded, she simply wanted the next phase in her life to be a peaceful one.

Life or death? Death or life? Two doors standing open in a sea of nothingness, poised to slam shut forever once stepped through. Two doors, one choice. One future. No turning back.

Even after talking with the Princess and the gracious dispersal of forgiveness, she still did not know what to do. She felt physically unable to make any decision. She felt, in a word, lost.

_If only somebody else could make the choice_ for _me, _she thought miserably. _Or better yet, if I could see the future, my future, I could go from there with confidence. _

Too bad, though. Because the only person capable of diving the future was a … a …. psychic?

_Satoshi._ The name formed soundlessly on her lips seemingly without reason, causing Hotaru to shudder involuntarily. That name. That most hated of all names. It felt like bleach on her tongue. But in this instance, it seemed to hold something for her. That commonplace three-syllable name was the key to a locked chest. But how? How could anything positive come from –?

Then it dawned on her. Well, of course. He _was_ a psychic. Or had been. Or maybe still was. Whatever. The point was he had that ability – the power to peek beyond the curtain of the present and into the future. He'd made no secret about it. It was his natural God-given power.

It all flooded back to her then. Broken pictures (a closed door, a stack of Tarot Cards, a box with a serpent etched on the lid) flapped through her mind like the blinking images of a malfunctioning television set. She snatched at them as they fluttered through the landscape of her subconscious, pieced them together, and stepped back to look upon what she had discovered.

It was a memory.

A room containing only three pieces of furniture. Nighttime pressing at the windows. Satoshi's room. Satoshi's bed. The two of them stationed across from one another on that very bed, making small talk – recollections of a beautiful evening trickling happily through their thoughts.

Hotaru knew the scene. After the high school end-of-year festival, he had taken her back to his place. She felt her body tense at the memory. What a glorious night that had been, what with all the fun booths dotting the schoolyard, the strobe lights washing over the dance floor, the press of another body against your own, both you and he swaying to the sound of far-away music… A true night of enchantment – wasn't that how such evenings were usually described? If only it had been real.

_So do you think … could you give me my fortune?_

_Sure. Give me your hand, palm up._

Yes. Yes! Hotaru's heart swelled. Now she remembered! He had read her fortune! What was it that he had said? Something about her being sad, about how she had lost a good friend? Hmmm … no, that hadn't been the fortune – she couldn't remember that part – but it was enough to relieve her burden. The fact remained: he had seen her future and it had been positive. That much she could remember. She also seemed to recollect the words "long life" being uttered.

So there it was. Her choice. Which hadn't been hers to make after all. Hotaru grinned. She suddenly felt free – lighter than a feather. Life! Her choice was life. For it had all been predestined. Surely, surely.

Except the real question was, could she trust the prediction of a known liar? What if that line about a long life had just been another one of his crock and bull stories? Hotaru discarded this notion immediately. It had seemed truthful when she heard it _then_ and it rang true _now_. Like all the best liars, Satoshi had mixed just enough truth with his own fabrications to confound and captivate. Hotaru simply chose to believe her fortune had been one of the rare instances where the truth was told.

Now free from the burden of awful choice, she turned her shining face toward Usagi. _Life! Life, life, life! It's what I've decided!_ That gleeful sentence trembled and itched on her tongue with such impatience that she feared she would never be able to articulate it. She pictured herself trying to say the words but tripping over them – a verbal _splat! _But what would that matter? Who cared? She didn't. She was too happy to care about anything.

Just then, with her teeth parted and tongue ready to strike, the rest of the fortune came to her. Word by word, it emerged from the fog.

_- A long life, like I said. And I also see that you'll overcome your sadness. You _will_ find happiness. You'll find somebody to devote your whole life to. This will occur very soon. And from that point onward, you'll be at peace._

Peace. Overcoming sadness. It was strange to hear Satoshi saying such things. But they were true things. This was true. Beyond a doubt, Hotaru knew it. It felt sublimely right. Only one thing nagged at her: this mystery someone she was going to devote her life to. Now who could that be? Another lover? She hoped to God not. She'd had enough boy trouble to last a lifetime. If not a future boyfriend, then who?

Then Usagi outstretched her hand.

"Now it makes sense." Hotaru gasped and followed the hand up through the arm and then to the face. She spent a long while looking at that face, as if seeing it clearly for the first time. She visually traced its contours, took into account the wide eyes, the small lips, the glimmering crescent moon etched upon the forehead. "It's _you_."

How could she have missed it? How could she have overlooked the obvious? This was her future, this woman standing before her. The Princess. _Her_ Princess. Not a future love, not a man at all – Satoshi had been talking about Usagi. Talking about her without even realizing it!

Now, looking at her future for the first time, Hotaru was struck by what she saw. With her flowing gown of silken organza, silver hair and pale skin against the white backdrop of the void, Usagi looked like a ghost, ready to vanish in the blink of an eye.

"No," murmured Hotaru. And before she knew it, she was running. Running forward. Bypassing the outstretched hand completely. She had to run. Had to be quick. For she was quite certain that Usagi would fade away at any moment. Which would be devastating, to finally find your life's purpose only to have it vanish at your fingertips.

Whimpering, crying tears of joy _and_ sorrow – sorrow that she hadn't come to this conclusion earlier – Hotaru crashed into Usagi with enough force to nearly send the Princess toppling backward. "I'm sorry," she breathed into the base of her neck. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Warm hands caressed her back, massaging the pain away. Then they unfolded her into a hug and Hotaru was swept up inside a love that she had never known before. _This is it – what I've been searching for. And I'll never leave you. I'm going to devote my entire life to you, do you hear me? _Hotaru sobbed and planted a peck of a kiss on Usagi's cheek, which the Princess reciprocated with one of her own. She did not respond to Hotaru's oath of service. At least not verbally. But they were both crying and hugging and Hotaru could feel the Princess' heartbeat shuddering through the bodice of her dress and noted that they were both in perfect sync – hers and Usagi's. This she took to be all the confirmation she need.

"Things are going to be different from now on," Usagi soothed as she stroked Hotaru's hair.

And beneath the protective huddle, Hotaru thought back: _I hope so. _Then she caught herself, amending: _I KNOW so. _For the age of the unknown had passed. Now, at long last, for the first time since …. well, _ever_ … she knew her place.

Here.


	29. Chapter 26 part I

Chapter Twenty-Six

Usagi continued to hold Hotaru close, even as the flat opaqueness of the crossroads dissolved into the harsh colors of reality. After that last reassurance, that now everything would somehow be different, no further words had been exchanged. Rather than speaking, the two women simply held each other close. That was all the comfort they needed. Sometimes the mere touch of another person's hand or the gentle stroking of hair could be just as claming as anything else.

Gradually the white stretches of nothingness darkened into a cloudy night sky. Soon after that, the sensation of floating in mid-air was replaced by the feel of the uneven Tokyo streets. Thus the crossroads, that seesaw balancing life and death, began to tilt toward the former, dispensing its two occupants into the world of flesh and blood. Peeking over the top of Hotaru's head, Usagi saw what few skyscrapers there were leaning heavily against the horizon like drunken giants and knew at once that they had made it back safely from the brink of death.

_I saved her, _Usagi thought as her hands distantly massaged the stiff muscles of Hotaru's neck. _I can't believe it, but I saved her. _A great swell of pride accompanied that idea – that she had been instrumental in actually rescuing somebody from the very jaws of death! It was an upsurge of emotion that she quickly quelled. Hotaru's salvation had not been her doing. It had been Hotaru's choice and hers alone to return.

Chuckling softly, Usagi bent forward and lightly kissed the purple gem of Sailor Saturn's tiara. Yes, it had been her choice and the _right_ one to make.

The others came somewhat reluctantly at first, unsure just how to respond. Out of the corner of her eye, Usagi spotted Haruka and Michiru inching forward side by side with Setsuna close behind. Behind _them_, following in a single-file line, was everyone else: all the other Sailor Princesses, Luna, Artemis, and Deimos - with Mamoru bringing up the rear. Each one of them had the same expression stamped on their faces: restrained hopefulness. Usagi understood their concern perfectly. After all, tricks and treachery had seemed the order of the evening as of late. A little hesitancy to accept a miraculous conversion was to be expected, then. Besides, hadn't Hotaru tricked them once before with a false change of heart?

She had.

But this time it was genuine. Pure and simple. Usagi knew it and thought it was time the others did, too.

So with a smile and a slight nod of the head, she beckoned them come. And they did, their doubts forever and instantly erased. Alternately laughing and weeping with skirts hitched up around their ankles, they pounced upon Hotaru for the second time in the space of an hour, scooping her up and drowning her in the same kisses they had administered before. And the great thing, the really _uplifting_ thing, was watching Hotaru's reaction. Before, she had endured the outpouring with all the joy of someone suffering through a limb amputation. Now, however, she actually seemed vibrant and engaged with the people around her – reciprocating every hug received with one of her own and expressing tearful thanks for their continued support.

Even the civilians seemed to have sensed that something wonderful had happened, for every one of them sported matching smiles. They appeared wonderfully at ease, wonderfully happy despite their lack of comprehension regarding Hotaru's complex back-story. All they knew, all they knew for sure, was that their Princess was happy and that such happiness was highly contagious. Even Gurio seemed to have at least temporarily discarded his nerdish manner in favor of something a trifle more gallant. Usagi caught a glimpse of him with his arm around Naru's waist and had to control an unseemly urge to break out into laughter.

It was a miracle. She could think of no other way to describe it. Hotaru's astonishing salvation had served as a means of unification. Indeed, Usagi almost felt intimately connected with the others present – almost as if they were extensions of herself. A thread of friendship had been woven between every heart in the area, linking Sailor Soldier and civilian alike, coupling souls and joining minds. It just felt so …. _right_. Surrounded by old friends, new friends, and soon-to-be friends, with Mamoru standing beside her, and with the old team finally reunited – it truly felt like one of those rare instances where the entire planet appeared to be at peace and the universe in perfect sync with itself.

Could it possibly _get_ any better? Usagi doubted it. This was nirvana, this moment, this instant in time. It couldn't be improved upon. It –

"Brava. Brava. Brava."

And just like that, the thread snapped, causing Usagi to free-fall down the harsh mountainside of reality.

Death Phantom. The ultimate spoilsport.

He had partially arisen from his previous prone position. One hand remained pressed to his side; acting as a plug for the massive wound which Hotaru had administered. The other served as a brace, as an anchoring point to the ground while he struggled to lift himself up. And with the limp fringe of his robe spread out around him, it really did appear as though he were sinking through the pavement of the highway. To believe that the very demons of Hell were pulling him down to join their ranks wouldn't have been much of a stretch.

_What a fabulous addition he would make, though, _Usagi inwardly mused.

"Looks like I've been dumped, doesn't it?"

Usagi said not a word. She didn't really think such an obvious statement warranted a reply. She was, however, aware that her tight knot of friends had unraveled. Hotaru remained the nexus of the group, but for the moment, much of the attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. Everyone now stood facing the enemy, their postures altered only slightly to allow for unobstructed observance. Only Luna, ever conscious of her role as nurturing protector, stayed at Hotaru's side in full, with both hands clasped around the girl's slim shoulders. A tongue-lashing was immanent. Everyone sensed it and braced themselves accordingly. Like coastal homeowners barricading windows in preparation for a hurricane, those gathered made sure to similarly reinforce their hearts and minds from the oncoming spew of hatred that was sure to assault their ears.

As it turned out, however, Death Phantom forwent the expected profanity-laced rant with something a little more subdued.

"Dumped … for a prin-princess," he chuckled sickly as he struggled upward. Behind him, the massive Black Poison Crystal slab retained its domineering presence in the sky, though its rotation had ceased and the Sailor Crystals entrapped within appeared to have increased in luminosity. "Not that I mind. For how could _I_ compete with royalty?"

Wait for it… Wait for it…

"But I wonder if maybe our dear Hotaru has switched teams in more ways than one. That's a possibility. You have to admit that it's a possibility." A tiny giggle escaped those drawn lips then, the sound soon giving way to a hum, its singular note stretching on and on until it became something humorous. "Hmmmmm I'm getting a vision!" exclaimed Death Phantom in a faux nasal voice that could have only been a vocal parody of your stereotypical turban-wearing, palm-reading swami. "I'm getting a vision, and it's so … _holy_."

Then both of his weird skinless hands darted out toward Usagi as if begging for alms before retreating back and clasping each other in a mock gesture of prayer.

Hotaru was at his side in a flash, the tip of the Silence Glaive at his throat even faster than that. _"Kneel before your Princess!"_

But far from being intimidated or frightened, Death Phantom's form maintained its rigid defiance. And the voice emanating from the dark space beneath the hood was absolutely frigid. "I'd rather die."

He meant it, too. Usagi knew that at once. Though his tone had been that of a sullen child (angry, perhaps, after loosing the 3rd grade soccer semifinals) the razor-edged tone of contempt propelling his words was hard to miss. Though defeated, his grand scheme of world domination thwarted, his pride remained – that same blasted pride that was now telling him to choose death over living a life given to him by his enemy.

It would've been admirable had it not been so misguided.

Usagi saw this, understood it, processed the information, but could not bring herself to believe it. The idea that this man … that this _boy_ sprawled out before her was a hopeless case was not an idea she was willing to accept. There had to be _some_ way to reach him. Even now, despite his arguments to the contrary, there had to be some way to penetrate that iron pride. But how? What further incentive could she offer him? The chance at a new life, an unconditional pardon – these things she had already volunteered, and each had been promptly dismissed. What more was there, then? What more could he want?

Then that inner voice, that pesky inner voice of hers that never seemed to shut up, answered in reply and said the most sensible thing it had said all evening. _You _know_ what he wants. He wants the one thing you can't give. _

Yes. Usagi sighed as she allowed her hope to slip away. He wanted to win. That was all. And unfortunately that was the one thing she would not, could not allow. …And yet, confound it all; she still was not ready to give up on him. Crazy though it might have been – or might have seemed to those around her – she was not going to turn away and declare him a lost cause. Call it a character flaw; call it a stubborn refusal to see the truth. Either way, she was not going to was her hands of him. At least not yet.

"Go ahead," cooed Death Phantom, drawing Usagi out of her internal deliberations. "Do what must be done. Kill me. Kill me and this ugly little episode can be forgotten."

What? Had … had she heard correctly? Usagi's startled heart pumped out a painful squirt of blood. She had. But what to make of it? Flippantly speaking of death was one thing, but actually inviting it? That was something else altogether.

"I concede defeat. You've won. Fair and square, as they say."

Usagi quirked an eyebrow. Something was up. Something was wrong. She could feel it hovering in the air, an unknown something, waiting for the right time to come crashing down upon their heads. Everything seemed to going a tad too smoothly. Through narrowed eyes, Usagi beheld the crumpled pile of purple robes smeared on the ground before her. Was it really Death Phantom? Was the bent and crippled form at her feet really the same merciless individual who had so laid waste to Tokyo only a few hours before? It didn't make sense. The two halves, the boasting, arrogant tyrant and his present, amicably humble, incarnation simply didn't mesh. It had to be another trick. Maybe he had somehow managed to clone himself, or more probably, maybe _this_ Death Phantom was actually a _robot_ Death Phantom meant to distract while the _real_ deal waited in the wings, coiled like one of those attack snakes, waiting for the opportune time to strike.

Immediately certain of the robot scenario, Usagi whirled about on her left foot, her slightly deranged eyes already frantically searching for the slightest sign of a cloak-tail flapping out from behind a rubble heap.

The injured Death Phantom (clone, robot, or otherwise) giggled. "No, no, I'm quite serious. My trickster days are over, I assure you."

_Like your word counts for anything._

Still unconvinced of a surprise attack, she slowly turned her attention forward again, all too aware of her exposed and unprotected backside. True, she had the others stationed around, Mamoru and them, but if something happened quickly and caught them off-guard…

"Why must you be so suspicious, Princess? Really! I don't understand you. Granted, I sympathize with _some_ of your misgivings about me, but frankly I cannot tolerate this continued hostility." He shrugged then, a gesture that brought his neck scrapping precariously close to Hotaru's Silence Glaive. If it bothered him, he gave no indication. "I made a vie for power and I lost. Thus I am ready to face the consequences. Namely, death. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. Because, as much as I hate to resort to a cliché, _you may have won the battle but not the war_."

Aha. The reason finally made known. It _wasn't_ over. The battle, maybe, but not the war. Not as far as he saw it, anyway. Death Phantom. What a good little soldier he was, giving up his life for the almighty Cause. Usagi had an idea that Chaos would've been proud had it stuck around long enough to witness the courageous display.

"Those with the strongest power control the world," he continued, seemingly from some distance away. If sounded as though he and Usagi were standing at opposite ends of a long tunnel, communicating through shouting, with their echoing words growing distorted somewhere in between. "That's a lesson you've taught me tonight, Princess, one that I enjoyed learning. Now demonstrate your power. Prove to me that you're a true leader. Give the word and your stooge will do the deed." Here he motioned toward Hotaru. "You won't even have to dirty your hands."

How convenient.

Distressed, Usagi proceeded to gnaw the inside of her cheek. And when that failed to calm, she switched to munching on a magically polished thumbnail. Had she gotten this straight? Was he actually seriously asking her to _kill _him? To execute him like some prisoner of war? It was an odd request to say the least, one she didn't get asked every day. Her first thought was to dismiss the petition outright. Exterminating helpless teenage boys didn't exactly qualify as a favorite pastime of hers.

"Kill me."

Usagi frowned, lost in earnest thought. Sure he was a teenage boy, but _helpless_? Did that word really fit the situation? It did when you considered the followers that had deserted him, the Master that had forsaken him. So helpless? Maybe. But innocent? No. Most certainly not. This boy in question was a murderer, a manipulator, a psychopath of the highest degree. And when considering _that_, the idea of execution began to take on a very sensible connotation. Providing it was carried out in a quick and painless manner, of course.

"Kill me."

Besides, it wasn't as if she'd never killed anybody before. Many an enemy had perished at the hands of Sailor Moon. What made this so different? Why was she now hesitating over something she had done before so many times without question? An enemy was an enemy, after all – be it a creature of sand, a spirit of fire, or an everyday human of flesh, bone, blood, and sinew. All were violators of the peace that the Sailor Soldiers had sworn to defend. Enemies.

One word. One command. Quick. Painless.

_"KILL ME NOW!! RIGHT NOW!! NOW NOW NOW!!" _

Bits of spittle flew from the black hole that served as Death Phantom's face. Usagi watched with a crazy woman's fascination as the droplets sprayed the air above in a fine mist, descended, and then showered the ground, burning tiny holes into the pavement as it did so. The body within the cloak writhed in blind rage. Those skinless hands appeared again, darting out from their long, billowy sleeves, flaying the surrounding area in a frantic attempt to latch on and strike at something. Watching the tantrum unfold, Usagi likened it to the final wild contortions of a captured animal moments before being administered a tranquilizer by zoo officials. It was a little scary to witness, this rapid regression from man to animal – but Hotaru didn't seem affected by it in the least. She continued to hold her ground – and the Glaive – steady.

_"KILL ME YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO SO JUST DO IT ALREADY JUST DO IT JUST KILL ME!!" _

Hotaru sighed and turned to Usagi. With her weapon still trained on his jugular, she said, "He is _so_ tempting me right now, you have no idea."

Usagi laughed. She couldn't help it. Hotaru was recovering nicely.

Then she grew serious. This was a serious matter. Life and death. It couldn't get any more somber than that. Life and death.

Seeking help, the Princess turned to her friends. Surely they would have the answer, would make the decision she had not the heart to make herself. But none would meet her eye. Each held her gaze for only a second, if that, before turning away to stare at the sky or the ground. Mouthy Minako had lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence. For once, Luna offered no advice.

Frantic, Usagi spun to in Mamoru's direction. He would help her. He kinda _had_ to, given he was her boyfriend and all. He would make the choice.

But when their eyes met, it was only for an instant. Then, just like the others, he lowered his head, the movement bringing the edges of his mask down over his eyes, obscuring them from view.

Desperate now, she turned her back on Mamoru in favor of Hotaru. No doubt _she_ would have an opinion if nobody else didn't. She of all people.

Yet when Usagi forced her pleading face upon her, Hotaru said nothing. Did nothing. Made no effort to ease her troubled mind whatsoever. Death Phantom wasn't much help either, for he had collapsed back to the ground in a stupor, having used up nearly all his energy in the shouting fit. And although she didn't make any kind of vocal statement one way or the other, Hotaru continued to hold Usagi's stare. She didn't look away like the others had. Her wine-colored gaze continued to hold Usagi in its intensity, and it seemed to be conveying a message to her: _It's your choice to make, right or wrong. The burden is yours now and yours alone. Just choose and be confident in your decision. _

Yes, this was her choice to make – just as the choice to return to the world of the living had been Hotaru's. The path was clear and defined either way. Just the utterance of a single word would result in Hotaru bringing the Silence Glaive round, extinguishing a life at the end of the swing. _Thwack! _Then there was the other word, which if said, would grant an unconditional pardon and life to an admitted unrepentant murderer. The consequences of that choice were … were .... Well, they were shrouded in mystery – which led Usagi to believe that maybe her choices weren't as clear and defined as she had first thought.

Slowly, deliberately, she raised both of her hands eye-level. They looked so fragile with their five slender digits and pink fleshy palms – far too delicate to be capable of holding a life in the balance. But such was the cross assigned to them. Life or death. Gazing down at them, Usagi began to perceive the right hand as symbolizing the choice for death, and the left for life. It rhymed that way. Made it easier to remember.

Usagi groaned. She was starting to crack. But before she did, she had a vote to make.

She hated her indecisiveness, was aware of time ticking by at a liquid pace, and of the weight of a thousand different set of eyes pressing down upon her back. They were watching her – her friends, her new acquaintances, Death Phantom himself – all of them, waiting to see what she would do now that the ball was in her court. Would she go for a shot or just continue dribbling?

Wanting to delay the moment as much as possible, she took a moment to look around. All was black, all was death. Once a sprawling, shimmering metropolis of neon and glass, Tokyo now looked like the aftermath of a nuclear bomb detonation. Nary a building had survived the destruction. What wasn't flattened was leaning or semi-collapsed. Off to the side of the street, Usagi spotted a pile of smashed buildings stacked atop one another, looking like a pile of discarded dominos. The clean-up costs would be enormous. Easily topping a trillion yen. If not more.

But what was money compared to the loss of human life? How could you place a value on that, all the lives that had been snuffed out in the span of the last few hours? Didn't she owe the survivors something, those who had lost friends and family in Death Phantom's wave of senseless terror? Didn't she owe _herself_ something? Didn't she have a responsibility to the memory of her parents?

Her jaw clenched at the recollection. She'd almost succeeded in suppressing the memory. But now it was back and she was reliving it all over again – her parents up there, atop the overturned bus, prisoners of Death Phantom. The order, _his_ order. Them falling dead. Leaking blood.

Usagi allowed her left hand to drop. She had come to a decision.

But then, just before she could pronounce her verdict, a vision overcame her. It was a priority mail revelation, beamed directly into her brain courtesy the evil eye. And like an arm raking across a table, knocking place-settings to the floor, the golden-tinted image completely swept away the here and now and dumped her unceremoniously into another realm beyond the present.

Except, at first, Usagi wasn't sure that she was seeing. She recognized the desolate cityscape, could pick out the familiar pile of buildings stacked domino-like off to the side of the highway, saw the same cloudy night sky above her, found that she was standing on the same stretch of split pavement she'd been standing on not a moment before, and was confused. This wasn't a vision. This was just a replication of the real world.

But the colors were off somehow. The sky looked darker than she remembered it and the fires burning in the crooks and crannies of the toppled structures seemed more yellow than orange. Everything came across as dim. Hazy. It was like looking through a dirty windowpane, or like watching a slideshow being shown by a projector operating on dying batteries. And when Usagi took a step forward, she noticed at once that this enchantment was weaker than most of Death Phantom's past efforts. Before, when he had tried this trick on her by way of displacing her from the battle to a dream-image of her home on a lazy afternoon, his grip on her had been firm; the spell itself being like a churning sea where it was hard enough to gain your bearings, let alone figure a way out above the waves. _This_ hallucination, conversely, had all the solidity of a tissue.

_It's because he's wounded, _she thought. _That, and maybe this is more about making a point than it is about trickery._

Maybe. Could be. There was only one way to find out, though.

Usagi took another step, amazed all over again at how uneasily the spell was being maintained. With each forward stride, the entire landscape seemed to tremble as if struck by an abrupt mild earthquake. Why, one solid foot-stomp would've probably been enough to send the whole thing crashing down like a house of cards.

Then, without warning, the false city blinked on and off once, like a flickering light bulb, and the street (which had been deserted up until this time) was suddenly crawling with people. Hundreds of them. All of different heights, ages, and builds. They all had their backs to Usagi and appeared to be converging upon a single point in the middle of the road. It was an alarming change for sure, to go from _that_ to _this_, but she was neither afraid nor startled. She was in control now. She was only watching this because she wanted to.

Curious, more curious than anything, she made her way toward the seething crowd. The others took no notice of the approaching interloper, but the two individuals closest to her were kind enough to move slightly from their shoulder-to-shoulder stance to allow for an unobstructed view of the thing happening in the center of the circle.

Usagi looked, then almost immediately turned away. It was nearly too horrible to put into words. Even after a short glimpse lasting no more than a millisecond, the image continued to linger on her eyes like a slimy film. What she had seen was an inversion of her victory over Death Phantom. The roles had been reversed, which meant that in this fantasy, Death Phantom was the towering champion and she the prostrate loser. Except that hadn't been all. In that fleeting look she had taken a number of things in, first and foremost being that every face peering at the sight in question had been marked with the black crescent and every ear sported the evening's most popular fashion accessory: the Black Poison Crystal earring. Secondly, and perhaps most disturbing, was the fact that, in this vision, she was dead.

It all came back to her full-force, the thing happening at her back. She saw it all over again, the whole half-second scene stretched out to feature film length, the repulsive details made all the more vivid because of it.

Exhibit One: her, lying at the feet of her conqueror, beheaded and scalped, her tattered royal gown stained a ghastly shade of red, the top half of her skull lying off to the side like someone's silver wig.

Exhibit Two: Death Phantom, holding her severed head in his left hand, an uncorked bottle of champagne in his right.

Exhibit Three: Death Phantom, pouring the contents of the bottle out into her cracked head, then lifting the head to his lips, as if it were a goblet, in a celebratory toast and then drinking…

Exhibit Four: the silent laughter of the crowd.

Exhibit Five: the knowledge that there were more corpses just out of sight, and that these bodies represented her friends, her brother, her lover.

And just like before, the bile began to rise in Usagi's throat and she had to force it down with several deep swallows. Revulsion swam over her tongue like a dozen squirming maggots. Her skin crawled. All this she experienced on an internal level. On the outside, however, her serene expression never wavered. A slight pursing of the lips served as the only outward indication that she was in any way distressed. Even so, she'd had enough. She'd seen the sight, had unsealed the message from its gory envelope. As a matter of fact, she could almost hear _his_ voice whispering low and rough against the ears, saying: "Go ahead and play the part of the pacifist if you will. Just know that I wouldn't have extended the same courtesy had our roles been reversed."

Then, like a PowerPoint presentation that has finished only to cycle back to the title slide again, the horrible sight began to replay itself again. Not wanting to bear witness to it a third time, Usagi shook her head, quite violently, and the false city crumbled around her. And when the dream-smoke cleared, there was Death Phantom, in his rightful place - at her feet. He looked like a beached whale, lying motionless on his back like that. And if he was a whale, then Hotaru was the champion harpooner. A girl in purple skirts and ribbons, she towered over her catch with her sharp-edged sword poised for the kill.

One word. One command. And the sword would swing. A life would end.

Usagi remained stationary for several seconds. She carefully considered the sight before her and the vision she'd seen. She took into account the multitude of the judgmental eyes at her back, and the two figures locked, unmoving, before her. Sailor Soldier Sailor Saturn and the dark prophet Death Phantom. Former lovers, now bitter enemies. Usagi stared at them and wondered what they were thinking.

As she pondered this, she slowly became aware of a tingling feeling at the base of her neck. It felt like fingers, tiny fingers of ice tickling up the spine. He was watching her. Death Phantom. That loathsome snake. Watching her with coal black eyes and probably smiling through crooked chicklet teeth.

Usagi sighed, a sound full of heartbreak. She had come to a decision.

Somber-faced, the Princess of the Silver Millennium raised both hands, and at the very gesture there appeared a small crack in the clouds above. Soft white moonlight spread through the fissure, and as it shone down upon its summoner, it began to condense, taking form and physical substance. Awe-struck spectators craned necks and squinted eyes to gain a better look. Murmurs of wonderment rippled through the crowd.

It was a rod, a scepter of some kind. Constructed of rose-tinted glass and topped with what appeared to be an ornate crown ornament, it descended delicately from the firmament like a helium balloon, sinking slowly toward the outstretched fingers that had beckoned it.

The Eternal Tiare slipped easily between both of Usagi's open hands. A perfect fit. From base to tip, it measured an impressive six feet in height – the last foot and a half surpassing the top of Usagi's head, odango and all. It felt good to have it in her hands again. Running her fingers over its smooth surface was like grabbing onto a tangible link from the past.

_Starlight Honeymoon Therapy Kiss_, thought Usagi somewhat wistfully. Then, aloud and to her prisoner, she said (in a tone of surprising authority): "Arise to hear my judgment."

He arose; groaning and moaning like an octogenarian with Hotaru hastening the process with a few quick jabs from the Glaive. "So you've finally come around." He spoke with a bruised voice that had an almost grandfatherly nuance to it, as if he were explaining a life lesson to a particular hardheaded grandchild. And he was still smiling. Smiling that skeletal grin.

_So you've finally come around. _

"Not quite," Usagi said. "You're to be banished. Exiled." She motioned vaguely upward to the sky with her free hand. "To Nemesis, that planet of darkness you love so much."

A heavy silence greeted the proclamation. Death Phantom remained fixed in place, leaning slightly on Hotaru's arm, stunned beyond speech or motion. Things weren't going according to plan, and Usagi had the idea that he was a man accustomed to having things run smoothly. And according to his will.

Fine. Let him listen or no. It mattered not either way. A final, inalterable decision had been made and Usagi was resolute in going through with it. Thus, she continued, "And while your punishment will be everlasting, it is my hope that you will use your time of solitude to contemplate-"

A tittering of raspy laughter interrupted her then. "Come now, Princess. Surely you don't mean what you say. Exile? No, no, no. It would be _such_ an anticlimax. Our audience deserves better."

" – your past misdeeds," Usagi continued without missing a beat. "I offer you the opportunity - "

"No," growled Death Phantom.

" – to learn and grow from your mistakes. I also hope that one day you will understand-"

"No."

" – that I banished you not out of hatred or fear, but because I once saw a light in you that was human."

_"No."_

"It is my further hope, my utmost longing, that you will nurture that light and that in time, you will shed your mantle of darkness and become Satoshi Yomata once more. I -"

_"SHUT UP!" _

The furious command struck the darkened cityscape like an artillery shell fired from a cannon. For one musical second, between the end of the last outburst and the beginning of the next, the ending syllable went ricocheting into the night, striking a target somewhere far in the distance before returning back on the Frisbee of echo. _UP!_ UP. Up. up.

He was mad. Furious. He now stood tall and erect, without help from anyone. His blackened hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically. His breath, which smelled like something from a car muffler, came out in asthmatic huffs, each putrid exhale striking Usagi in the face like a wet slap.

"You think you're saving a life?! You think you're doing me a _favor_?!"

Instead of answering the shrieked accusations, Usagi calmly folded her hands and half-closed her eyes. She would listen, but would do it silently. Besides, she doubted very much if he actually had expected a reply in the first place.

"Do you think this utopia of yours will actually _last?_" He scoffed and shook a gnarled finger. "It won't. Chaos dwells within the human heart. Peace is contrary to man's very nature. Anything _you_ offer, then, will be only temporary. Sooner or later dissatisfaction will ripple through the populace and others will rise up."

The tiny prickling at Usagi's neck then blazed into a maddening red-hot itch, a sure indication that the smile beneath the hood had grown into a broad, unrestrained grin.

"They'll be young and angry and in need of guidance. And that's where I'll come in. Should you choose exile over execution this night, you have my word that I'll find some way to return. Whether it be months, years, or millennia, I will have my revenge. Upon you and your descendents. That's not a prediction, that's a guarantee."

He moved forward, gauging his pace thoughtfully. He took it slow, each shuffling step a deliberate effort. His cloak, stiff with blood and ash rustled about his feet. Another few strides brought him within an arm's reach of Usagi - close enough that she could make out the pale contours of a skull beneath the overhang of his hood.

They stood like that for several agonizing seconds, them only inches apart, neither moving, neither speaking. Hotaru watched all this with a wary eye. Her hands remained clenched upon the Glaive, her legs poised to propel her forward at the first sound of a scream. She didn't care too much for what she was seeing. The Princess' close proximity to the enemy made her feel wholly uneasy.

"Banishment or death," he was saying. "Take your pick. Only get on with it and keep the consequences in mind."

Usagi regarded him silently for a moment, then took a step backward, allowing enough space between them that she could raise the Eternal Tiare. It remained suspended over their heads for a short while, like a judge's gavel ready to strike. Then – _ping!_ – it was brought low again, its base connecting sharply with the pavement.

"To Nemesis, then," the Princess responded.

"Then I'll see you in time," was Death Phantom's only response.

Though probably intended as a threat, those words did not disturb her in the slightest. The thing in the purple shroud had lost its ability to intimidate her. In the time since her victory, she had come to the conclusion that whatever fear she'd felt before had been the result of her own uncertainty. But she was stronger now: sure of herself, sure of her destiny. She stood now as an unshakable judge, as a valorous Princess. As the conquering hero.

The night air grew chilly as a slight wind blew. Upset by the sudden upstart of air, the fires lining the thoroughfare rippled like orange streamers. Then it was over, the wind dying almost as soon as it had been birthed. The very universe seemed to be holding its breath. Above and behind a thick fog of cloud, a million silver stars gazed downward, waiting anxiously for the next act in this curious drama.

The things that happened next were so fantastic, so incredible, that they were scarcely to be believed – especially later, in the lull of peace. They happened without warning, without so much as a nod from Usagi to indicate what was about to take place.

One minute, everything was as still as a photograph, and in the very next instant, the sky itself was torn in two.

It defied logic. It was, by all accounts, quite impossible. And yet it happened. The very fabric of reality, ripped as though it were only paper – a shimmering crack of white phosphorus splitting the air not fifteen feet above the heads of those gathered. And as they watched, dazed and not yet understanding, the tear grew. It widened, expanding like a wound, oozing blood that sparkled white. Then came the whirlwind. It sprang out of the ether with a gale more furious than a tornado. The howling winds of far-off space.

Those that had been standing idly by watching now turned tail and ran. There were screams, but these were instantly drowned out by the howling vacuum. The cluster of Solar Princess retained its shape, but just barely. Rei and Minako clutched each other in dimwitted terror. Hair slapped wildly about their faces in an entwined black and yellow braid, obscuring their vision. Haruka, the tallest of all the girls and acting something like a giant windsail, lost her balance and went tumbling down at Setsuna's feet (smacking her rear solidly on the cement in the process), the hem of her gown flapping up around her thighs. Michiru, howling yelps of stupefaction, made a desperate grab for something solid with both hands, found it in Makoto, and managed to stay upright for all of three seconds before toppling over the crown Princess of Jupiter. As for Mamoru, he had set his sight on Usagi and was crawling toward her on his knees. He grunted with the effort. Moving forward was like trying to pass through a wall of solid stone. Furious currents tore at his cape with invisible hands. The sting of the wind on his cheeks was like the sting of a dozen wasps.

Only Usagi and Hotaru remained upright and immobile. Between them, Death Phantom was rising into the air as if caught in some alien tractor-beam. Limbs flapping, body somersaulting, he looked like a star Olympic diver, but in reverse. It also looked like he was trying to fight against it. Clawed, arthritic fingers tore madly at the air. Beneath his robe, stiff legs whirled rapidly in crazy arcs as if trying to pedal an imaginary bike uphill. He was screaming.

On the ground, Hotaru smiled, infinitely pleased with what she was seeing.

Above, the partition widened. And those brave enough to look saw that it was actually a gateway. A wormhole. A portal to the distant reaches of furthest space, where even the light of the stars is cold and strained. Yet it was also a mouth - the hungry maw of a dragon perhaps, dripping saliva that glittered. Radiant jaws broadened, anxious to devour the tiny lump of flesh that was drifting effortlessly toward it. And as it did so, the keen observer was able to catch a glimpse – just a glimpse – of the area beyond. Of the destination. Of the world this terrifying gateway had opened onto.

Had there been a soul brave enough to risk the winds and gaze upward, they would've, in all likelihood, discerned a black swath with a few lonely stars peppered about, as if these stars had somehow gotten separated from their larger celestial families and had gathered together in hopes of being found again. Blackness and a few wayward pricks of light. Nothing more.

Ah, but there was more. Camouflaged to near perfection – a small orb floating like an iron ball amidst the gloom of space. It peered out of the gateway like a bruised eye; so black it made its surroundings appear gray in comparison. Its surface appeared to be flat, featureless and forgettable. This last-minute addition to the solar system possessed neither the swirling clouds of Jupiter, nor the rings of Saturn. It boasted neither life nor the possibility that life had ever crawled across its wretched surface in any form. A scuffed marble floating aimlessly through space, Nemesis was as dark as it was foreboding. In short, it was an evil place with an evil, warping aura.

The perfect prison for a warped and evil individual.

But the prisoner wasn't going quietly. He was screaming, shrieking at the top of his lungs, determined to be heard one last time. The sound was like the continuous whine of a machinegun, perceptible even over the rushing torrents. It ran Usagi's blood cold and broke her heart in unison. She took no pleasure in his pain. Hearing him screaming in fear did not put a smile on her face. It was regrettable. Regrettable on so many levels. Why had he not accepted her peace offering? Why had it resorted to this?

Downcast, she watched as Death Phantom continued to rise. He seemed to have lost all human proportions. Now he appeared to be nothing more than purple smoke churning in the air. Ethereal and without substance. Ghostly. Harmless.

Well, at least it was a change for life. And maybe he would change. _That sometimes happens, _Usagi thought, trying very hard to keep her mental voice upbeat. _Some people just need time alone to think about what they've done wrong. Then they change. _It was an unlikely scenario, certainly, but Usagi liked to think –

Her thoughts broke off, incomplete.

He wasn't screaming. He was laughing.

Usagi's mouth hardened into a line. He wasn't sorry. He would never be sorry. Hearing his maniac laughter convinced her of that.

Then he was passing through the silvery doorway, looking like a gnat casually buzzing into the mouth of a man fast asleep. Tumbling head over heels, he entered into the void. And the instant he had passed over into that other territory, the portal sealed itself with lightning speed - an abrupt adieu to both Nemesis and Death Phantom.

At that precise moment, the Black Poison Crystal monolith, which had been hovering stationary in the air above them all, exploded with a mighty _CHOOM!! _Bits of its shattered façade flew down like pellets and were swept up by the still-churning winds before they had a chance to shower the ground underneath. For the poison remained. It resided in even the smallest fragment of the accursed stone, an uneasy balance of atoms combustible enough to turn a pebble into a megaton bomb.

Now free of their confines, the Sailor Crystals streaked downward like rainbow comets. They flew past Usagi like jeweled bullets, some passing her on the right, some to the left, and some overhead. Not a one of slowed to thank her for releasing them. Which Usagi understood. They were anxious to return to their masters.

A subtle smile played across her face as the happy cries of her friends reached her ears. Satisfied, she nodded and peered up at the sky. Still overcast. The smile on her face wilted. Everything looked perfectly natural. There was not a hint of fire in the air and the last traces of portal-glitter had since faded away. It was just an ordinary cloudy night; no different from the millions of similar such nights that had graced the face of the earth countless years before.

Had it happened? Had any of it really happened?

Usagi narrowed her eyes, as if doing so would somehow allow her to see beyond the veil of cloud. She saw nothing. Again, that troubling question elbowed its way into her mind: _Was any of it for real? _It must've been, for she had memories of the events in question, but … But everything just seemed so _normal_ now. Even the demon winds had rolled on. Maybe it had all been an illusion. Maybe _this_ was the illusion; another figment conjured up by the Evil Eye. Perhaps she was still fighting him and this calm normalcy was just another ploy.

A wave of dreamlike dizziness passed over her at that thought and for one terrifying instant Usagi pictured herself balanced precariously at the edge of a dark canyon with Death Phantom's hands pressing at her back.

It was such a genuine feeling of struggle that she gasped aloud. She could actually feel herself being pushed over the precipice. She could feel her equilibrium titling like a seesaw missing its lynchpin, could feel the scream bubbling up her throat like bile. The rocks! The rocks below!

But at the last minute before being dashed to pieces, two hands broke through to save her. They grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back to reality.

"Mhmm." Usagi allowed her eyes to close as the hands moved up to massage her neck. She leaned into it, her body relaxing. Her troubles, which had taken the appearance of a tightly woven ball of yarn in her mind, were unraveling. "A little to the left, please."

The fingers complied. Usagi's smile returned, reignited by Mamoru's warm aura. Standing there, swaddled in that golden glow, the two of them looked like entwined angles silhouetted against the sun.

_Goodbye, Satoshi, _the Princess thought reflectively. _See you again when the time is right._

"Why did you do that?"

Turning, Usagi met eyes with Ami. Still dressed in her azure gown and with the Mercury symbol burning on her forehead, she approached the Princess timidly; her Sailor Crystal nestled close to the breast. Alternating shades of blue swam over her face, giving her the appearance of a mermaid floating on its back, gazing up at the world through a screen of water. Her face wore an expression of apology, as though questioning a superior was something akin to betrayal. Yet now that she had made her presence known, she continued to speak, albeit reluctantly. "You know he'll only escape, so why…" She trailed off, unable to go on.

"Yes, I know," Usagi assured. She reached out and stroked Ami's shoulder lightly. The other girl jumped, then relaxed at the touch. "But fortunately, I also know how the story's going to end."

_"Happily, and by your own hand." _

Ami's eyes went wide. The fingers that had been kneading the achy muscles of Usagi's neck ceased their work abruptly. There were two thumping sounds as both Ami and Mamoru collapsed to the ground in concert. Confused, Usagi looked up only to see the rest of her friends behaving in the same fashion – shocked expressions, followed by quick kneeling. Whatever it was that had them so spooked was behind her.

She turned.

There was somebody approaching. The crowd had parted the way for whoever it was, with murmurings of "She's beautiful," and "Who is she?" softly announcing the figure's arrival.

It was a girl; Usagi could see that now. Or a woman. Actually an exact age estimate was going to be difficult to make, for although the shape had the proportions of a youthful teen, she moved with an assurance that was both commanding and graceful at the same time. It looked as though she was _gliding_ forwards rather than actually walking – a dainty figure propelled by a breeze.

Tall and slender, she wore a strapless gown of spotless white that hugged the curves of her hips and flared at the knees. Running along the top of the frock was a bow, pinned into place by a crescent moon object. The woman's hair, bound in odango, was a reflective silver, the color of diamonds. Her complexion was flawless, her skin like milk. Her face looked like that of an 18 year-old, but her eyes (glass ornaments of polished gray) told the story of her true age.

She was eerily beautiful and looked something like a fairy, what with her wings. There were four of them extending from her back in the style of a dragonfly, each transparent and looking fragile as stardust.

And on her forehead, the symbol of the Silver Millennium: a golden crescent moon.

_On earth she was called Selene, goddess of the moon, _Usagi thought dreamily. _But _I_ knew her simply as … "mother". _

The sudden recollection struck her like a thunderbolt from the past.

"Queen Serenity!"


	30. Chapter 26 part II

Chapter 26 (part 2)

The name tumbled gracelessly from her mouth like a belch. To compensate, Usagi quickly curtsied, though the act came across sloppy and ill rehearsed. She kept her eyes to the ground, daring not to look into the face of a woman far greater than she.

Then the Queen was standing over her, and from the top of her vision, Usagi saw a hand being extended. Not knowing quite what to do, she reached up, took hold of the hand and, on impulse, kissed it in a knightly fashion. She patted her lips against the cool skin once, twice. Then the Queen withdrew sharply (almost as if the formal act offended her) and Usagi felt herself being lifted up whilst being pulled in, and in the very next instant, both mother and daughter were engaged in a tear-stained embrace.

The two of them laughed while they cried, Queen and Princess. No words were passed between them and in this moment, none were needed. In this time of sweet reunion, Usagi was content to be resting her chin against her mother's shoulder, could find comfort in the hands stroking her hair.

_Freshly cut roses, _Usagi marveled. Her mouth trembled. The tears came again, rambling and beautiful. _She always had that scent about her. I remember. Now I remember._

Gentle hands now. Pushing her back.

_ "I do believe you've grown." _

Usagi nodded, incapable of anything else. A stone had somehow gotten lodged in her throat, thus making speech impossible. A world of emotion had overwhelmed her. It felt as though the weight of time itself was pressing down on her chest and burning her eyes with tears. One slid errant now, gracing the curve of her cheek. Serenity brushed it aside with a forefinger and Usagi trembled at the touch. This was real. The Queen was real. When last she had presented herself, it had been in the form of a malfunctioning hologram projected by the Moon Castle's ancient computer systems – unable to touch or be touched. And now here she was in the living flesh, weeping and laughing right alongside her daughter.

As if reading her mind (and who was to say this wasn't within her power?), Serenity clasped both of her elegant hands beneath her chin and sighed. _"My darling daughter. How good it is to see you once more. I can't express to you the joy I feel having you in my arms again. It's been far too long."_

"Yes," Usagi managed with some difficulty. "Lifetimes upon lifetimes."

_"I've been watching you," _the Queen continued, her voice soft and crisp like the tinkling of far-away bells. _"Not just tonight, but your whole life long. I was there when you were born again on a new earth to a new mother and I was there when you assumed the mantle of Sailor Soldier. It was rough going at first …"_

The Princess winced, remembering the floundering that had accompanied her first foray into the world of Sailor Soldier-ing. The crying spells. The clumsy way she had thrown her tiara. The protests to Luna. Now the chastising would come, courtesy of the Queen. Oh she could hear it already, the tender voice growing thorns, accusing her of laziness, of not living up to the name that had been bestowed upon her.

But Serenity only chuckled. Again came that cool hand, resting lightly on Usagi's shoulder. _"Now, now. I didn't finish. What I was _going_ to say was, 'Yes things were rough at first, but they smoothed out almost immediately as I knew they would.' "_

Another teardrop fell from another one of Usagi's eyes and the Princess brushed it away quickly. She didn't want anything blurring the vision of her Queen, whom she was now staring at with naked expressions of love and admiration dancing in her eyes.

_"You have proven yourself this day. You have fulfilled your destiny as a soldier and have secured your birthright as a princess. You have vanquished the enemy and sent him away alive but defeated – an act of compassion I surely could not have duplicated had I been in your place."_

Overcome nearly to the point of drunkenness, Usagi nodded again – feeling totally inept and a little tipsy. Words had escaped her. She could only stand and stare and listen as this woman lavished unwarranted praise upon her.

_"Endymion?" _

A rustle of fabric followed by a faint voice: "Your High Excellency?"

With a roll of the eyes, Serenity playfully elbowed her daughter and bobbed her chin downward. Following the gesture's trail, Usagi felt her lips peel back from her teeth in an automatic grin. Mamoru had collapsed in a low kneel at the feet of Queen Serenity and it looked like he wasn't getting up. He seemed to take no notice of the giggling monarchs chuckling above, preferring instead to keep his head hung and his face out of sight.

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, the Queen reached out and placed a hand atop one of his cloaked shoulders. _"Rise up to me, Endymion. It is you I want to see, not the top of your head! Can a prince not look a queen in the eye?"_

Mamoru leapt to his feet at once, literally shooting up from his kneeling position as if there were springs attached to his heels. As he did so, Serenity gave the same orders to Ami and the rest gathered in the distance – to stand, to come.

They did so, but slowly, as if treading water. They moved forward in a shuffle of skirts, their faces blank with wonder. Haruka, Michiru, and Hotaru looked particularly solemn, which Usagi could understand. After all, they had never met the Queen face to face. For them, the Silver Millennium had been a lonely time of cold duty. Princesses of barren lands, their mission had been to repel enemy forces from outside the solar system. Forbidden to leave their posts, they had never experienced the soft laughter and fantastic parties of that peaceful time. No, only in dreams.

Once they had all gathered about, the Queen turned her face to each, offering everyone an individualized smile and nod. Then she took both of Mamoru's gloved hands in her own and asked, _"Endymion, do you love my daughter?"_

The reply was instantaneous. "I do, Your Majesty. With all my heart, I do." His eyes flicked toward Usagi and in the moment before they rolled back to the Queen, she saw in them a pained expression of boyish hurt. _You know I love you, _that glance seemed to say. _Why can't _she_ see it? Why does she even have to ask?_

_ "Yes, Endymion, I know you do," _Serenity continued. _"And I'm thankful that you have loved her in a way I could not. You've been her compass and her anchor all these years, alternatively pushing her forward and holding her steady. Thank you."_

The lines upon Mamoru's brow smoothed. He nodded, trying to remain grim-faced, but Usagi spied a tiny grin working the edges of his mouth.

_"Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Venus? Pluto, Uranus, Neptune, Saturn?"_

They answered as if governed by a hive mind, each of the eight girls responding "Ma'am" in an identical fashion.

After a second or two of careful appraisal, Serenity spoke again. _"I consider you all to be my daughters as well. I'm so proud of each of you. You've guarded the Princess well. But more than that, more important than fulfilling your role as soldiers, you've perfected the art of friendship – and it is for that that I offer you my most sincere thanks."_

It was a simple expression of gratitude, not nearly as eloquent as they had been expecting, but they found it to be more than enough. It filled them with warmth and satisfied them completely. And when Serenity had finished, each of the girls found that they were struggling to hold back tears.

Now the Queen called forth the remaining three persons of the Court. _"Luna, Artemis, Deimos?"_

They stepped forward on human legs. "Majesty?"

_"You are the heart, soul, and brains of this Sailor Team. Whatever success was gained this night, you three are the reason behind it. You are the mentors, the teachers, and the conscience of the women you see before you."_

Luna opened her mouth to speak, faltered, and turned to Artemis for support. But he was no better off than she. Eyes shimmering, he could do no more than hold his partner close, pat her on the back, and stare apologetically at the Queen. Thus it fell to Deimos to express the feelings of the group. So, keeping Serenity in her sights, the former raven rolled her hands into fists, brought both up eye-level, and tapped her forehead once with the extended thumbs.

It was a gesture expressing utmost thanks and humility at the same time – a gesture left over from the world of Coronis, reserved exclusively for the deity-kings of that planet. But Queen Serenity seemed to understand. She brought her own hand up and made a downward hooking motion with the index finger, following through with the seldom-used reciprocal action that indicated the thanks expressed had been favorably received.

_"I thank you all, every one of you!" _Serenity raised both hands, extending them over the heads of those gathered around her. _"You have loved the Princess in my stead, you have protected the Princess where I could not, and you have taught her the things worth knowing. For this, you have my eternal heartfelt thanks." _

"And we will continue to watch over her," Luna said, having found her voice.

Queen Serenity nodded. _"Please do."_ Then she turned toward Usagi and Mamoru, who had since linked hands. _"There are others here who would like very much to talk to you before my final announcement is made. Friends of yours, Endymion."_

Others? What others? What final announcement? Usagi started to ask, but before she could phrase her questions into words, the Queen took a sweeping step to one side and the first of the questions was answered.

She knew them immediately, these others who had come to speak. There were four of them. Four males, all garbed in the same uniform of white vests with gold piping, brown slacks and brown capes. Each was of a slightly different height, with the one heading the march being the tallest. All were beautiful.

They came sweeping along the road like transient phantoms and the closer they came, the more Usagi could see that they were semi-transparent. This fact did not surprise her. Once she had recognized them, she'd half expected it anyway. For hadn't she killed them all (well, most of them anyway) herself, once upon a time?

The leader stopped abruptly, causing the others behind him to lock step as well. A sword jangled on his hip. He bowed then, still a ways from either Usagi or Mamoru, and spread his cape out like wings. The three behind him followed suit. Then, with a flapping _swoosh _that sounded like a massive flock of birds ascending, the capes were brought in.

"Master."

The hand holding Usagi's twitched as if shocked by electricity. "K-Kunzite? Jadeite, Nephrite? _Zoisite_?" Each name that escaped the lips was a shallow breath of disbelief. "I thought I'd never see you again! You – you haven't appeared to me in so long…"

This seemed to amuse the eldest, who rose to his feet with a poorly concealed smile on his face. "Never see us again? Why, we've always been with you. We watch over you the same way the Queen watches over the Princess." Then, as if just now coming to the realization that there were _two_ people standing in front of him, he turned to Usagi and bowed - not as deeply as he had to Mamoru, but who was keeping score? "Forgive us, Highness."

"We did not mean to slight you," Jadeite explained from somewhere over the general's shoulder.

Feeling as though she had just been hurled through the looking glass, Usagi waved off the apology and made some kind of comment regarding the special bond shared between _them_ and _him_. "Him" being Mamoru. In perfect truth, however, she had no idea just _what_ she was saying. She felt like the straight man in some hidden camera show. Yeah. Yeah, sure! Her hubby had probably arranged it all as a kind of get-back prank for some joke she'd played on him in the past. Queen Serenity was in on it too, of course. Along with the surviving population of Tokyo. They were all playing along, keeping to the script, waiting for the moment when all would be revealed in a flurry of laughter. Then the host (a white-haired gentleman dressed in a pin-striped suit) would pop up from nowhere along with the camera crew and while the sets were being dismantled he would inform Usagi that – Surprise! It had all been a joke courtesy of _Hyper-Action Incognito Camera_!

Why else would the Shitennou, once the fearsome warriors of that ancient sorceress Queen Beryl, be so concerned with an etiquette breach?

But Mamoru seemed to be genuinely moved by their unexpected appearance (Usagi could feel his pulse racing underneath the skin of his hand) and the Queen, static in her place off in the wings, appeared at ease. And if _they_ didn't seem to be confused, Usagi could discern no possible reason why she should be. Besides, she did harbor a certain affection for those four, anyway. She looked upon them with the same fondness an older girl might look upon an old doll. Her very first enemy set.

The Shitennou. Before the fall of earth's Golden Kingdom, they had been the elite bodyguards of Prince Endymion, the chosen few deemed worthy enough to protect him directly. In this way, the four men had fulfilled a role very similar to Princess Serenity's own four guardian goddesses. Loyal servants bonded together by a sense of duty and kinship. Except somewhere along the way, that bond had eroded between them and they had forsaken their Prince, deciding instead to align themselves with evil.

The Shitennou. Usagi knew them all by face and name. You had Jadeite, the handsome blonde youth; Nephrite, the second oldest, proud and auburn; the effeminate Zoisite; and of course the stately Kunzite. The Four Heavenly Kings. Once ruthless enemies, now friendly ghosts.

"We had to see you, Master," Nephrite said.

"One last time," said Zoisite.

"Before you assumed your rightful place over the earth," Jadeite finished.

Breaking away from the others, Kunzite stepped forward. He offered Mamoru his hand. The Prince looked at it doubtfully, perhaps uncertain that anything so ethereal could be physically touched.

The translucent fingers curled inward slightly.

"We did you a grave injustice once, Sire." A ragged sigh. The extended hand, still empty, quivered. And…. And Usagi could hardly believe it. This battle-hardened warrior actually looked on the verge of tears. They sparkled against the whiteness of his eyes, smudging the gray irises. Sparkled, but did not fall. It appeared that Kunzite, ever the stiff-lipped soldier, would not allow for such a disgrace.

"We do not expect forgiveness," he continued, obviously struggling to control the wobbling quality of his voice. "We merely ask that-"

But Mamoru did not wait for him to finish. He had already taken Kunzite's hand and was now pulling him close, yanking him into a hug. Taken off guard, the general stumbled into his master's open arms in a manner most clumsy, his usual authority over his facial muscles now absent. His composure returned momentarily, however, but only at half strength. For through her own misty vision, Usagi saw a small orb of salt water threatening to escape down the side of Kunzite's right eye. She traced its progress with an absurd amount of interest. Cheered it on as it finally slipped undetected from the cornea and groaned with dismay as the blasted thing became caught on an eyelash.

Then Mamoru leaned in, kissed Kunzite roughly on the check, whispered something in his ear, and when the two men detached, she saw that the captured tear had vanished. With that being the case, she turned her attention then to her Prince and watched as he made his way to each of the three remaining "kings", working his way down like a wedding guest moving through a receiving line. At each, he made it a point to extend a hand and an embrace and whisper private words of some kind. What they might have been, Usagi had no idea and understood that it was not in her place to ask. Whatever was being spoken was not for her ears. This was a personal moment – a reunion between five brothers.

When at last Mamoru had completed his rounds, he returned to Usagi's side and took up her hand again. She saw that he had been crying. And he, being not the stoic figure that Kunzite was, had made no move to hide the fact.

"Thank you," Zoisite said, wiping swollen eyes with the end of his ponytail. "It means so much to us that-"

Mamoru sighed and pursed his lips. "What did I tell you? Just forget it, okay? It's over. What's done is done."

"…is done," whispered a muted voice from behind Usagi. A voice she instantly placed as Hotaru's.

"But you have to appreciate the capricious nature of fate," said Nephrite. He was grinning … but mischievously, as if trying to conceal a gut-bursting secret and doing a poor job of it. "To think that the Moon Kingdom will be resurrected here on earth when it was the Earth Kingdom that rose up against Silver Millennium all those years ago. It's ironic, to say the least."

The Moon Kingdom? Resurrected? Had Usagi merely imagined that tone in his voice – as if he were not talking about a hypothetical event so much as he was referencing something lingering upon the cusp of the present. She looked up at Mamoru, meaning to ask him if he had noticed anything, but before she could get his attention, she saw the Queen gliding back to center stage.

_"Spoilsports," _she was saying.

Nephrite grinned at her fully now, all pretenses dropped, and Serenity returned the expression, suggesting that she wasn't nearly as irritated as she was trying to appear. _She may be Queen of the Solar System, _Usagi mused, _but she sure can't act._

She might have laughed at this little observation of hers had not the Queen addressed her then.

_"Serenity?" _

Uh-oh. This was it. The final revelation of the night. Usagi could feel it. The air had changed. Everything had taken on a more hushed timbre. The murmurings that had been fluttering through the crowd of civilians had given way to expectant silence. No longer smiling, the Shitennou stood still and expressionless like a series of stone effigies as Queen Serenity passed in front of them. Usagi could sense a host of eyes at her back, their presence like a stone wall blocking possible escape. Mamoru's hand had suddenly broken out into a sweat; detectable even through the fabric of the glove he was wearing. Earth itself seemed frozen on its axis. All was still.

Usagi opened her mouth to respond. Her tongue felt weirdly heavy. Her lips smacked quietly as they parted. "Yes?"

_"Kneel, my daughter."_

Now the Queen's tone was one of prim formality. There was a ritual that had to be preformed if things were to proceed, if the crown was to be –

Not allowing herself to think that far ahead, Usagi sank to her knees. It happened in one slow, fluid movement. Her gown swished as she descended – the only sound for blocks. And when she had reached the lowest point of respectful subservience, she remained there; her hair (an identical silver to her mother's) coiled about her feet, her hands folded together in what might've been prayer. From somewhere behind her, she heard a gasping sob that sounded like Luna, though she didn't turn her head to see. She kept her eyes on the Queen.

Serenity stood over her daughter and namesake, hands clasped waist-level. With her white dress, silver hair and pale skin, she appeared to glow in the wretched darkness of the post apocalypse. Here was an angel descended from the moon above to guide man back to civilization.

_"Tonight you have proven yourself."_

This was an ancient goddess, with beauty unparallel and powers inimitable.

_"Tonight, a new Silver Millennium will be ushered in to being."_

And compassion divine.

_"Daughter, will you swear an oath this night? An oath to promote peace and vanquish evil? To guide the Earth to grace?"_

Usagi considered. This was not a promise to be made lightly. Could she do it? That was the question. Yes, she thought she could. Conceivably. But was she prepared to take up such a burden? At this stage in her life, would it turn out to be too much to bear? For goodness' sake, she was only a teenager, barely out of childhood! She had never asked for this responsibility! She'd been born into it!

Could she? Would she? Kneeling there, a wild urge swiftly gripped her: to shoot up from the ground, to dart past the Queen, to run and run and run. Away from the responsibility. Away from her duty. It was an urge that refused to be squashed and Usagi suddenly found herself unsure. She was vaguely aware of the Queen overshadowing her, waiting for a response. She could see Mamoru's pale shadow stretched over the distance between herself and Serenity. He held the Eternal Tiare, which she had handed to him.

The walls were closing in. The sky was pressing down. She wanted out. It wasn't that she didn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps – far from it; she just didn't want to do it right _now. _Maybe in a couple of years when maturity had set in. Maybe then. But not now. Too much responsibility. Too much for a young girl. …It was too much for _anybody._

Then she saw Shingo, bouncing up and down like a jack-in-the-box behind the rows of civilian onlookers, struggling for a look over taller bodies. And though she was only able to catch the expression of his face between jumps, she had no doubt it bore a look of brotherly pride. That and a hopeful smile. The other people in the crowd, meanwhile, wore identical expressions of dazed passivity. They looked as if they were only watching a movie, one whose plot they could not comprehend but with special effects too fantastic to turn away from.

A grin on her lips, Usagi turned back to the Queen. She would have to take a special day off to explain everything to them. She could picture it now – a PowerPoint presentation chronicling her adventures as Sailor Moon made available to the public thanks to a pair of twin 50-foot video screens. She'd show it in the park.

Then, in answer to her mother's question, Usagi spoke in a perfect stream of consciousness that was both fittingly dignified and sincerely heartfelt. "I will. And I hereby pledge to devote my life to the goal of peace. I will protect and defend and enforce the laws of love and justice by my own power and with the support of those around me. I will honor the name of the Moon while servicing the needs of the Earth. All this, I do solemnly swear."

Serenity nodded her approval. _"Then stand and receive your inheritance."_

She did so confidently. And when she had fully arisen, she saw that the Queen was holding something in her hands. Something tiny. Something that flashed white along swirling tracks.

A crown.

Small in size and fitting nicely into the palm of the hand, it would've been more properly termed a tiara, though its adornments were certainly no less majestic. Runners carved from unblemished ivory upheld a cut-glass object in the shape of a winged heart. A shard of clear crystal, set into the heart's center, blinked sweetly, as if luring all those with queenly aspirations.

_"The symbol of your authority."_

Usagi could not find the power to speak. She felt as though she'd been sucker punched in the gut. It was all she could do to remain standing. All the feeling in her legs was gone, just as surely as if someone had sneaked up and amputated both without her knowledge. She felt suspended in air and knew for a fact that if she happened to glance down to see her legs were missing, she would go _splat_ like the Coyote off a cliff in those American _Roadrunner _cartoons she had enjoyed as a child.

Her stomach churned. She could taste the bitter tang of acid reflux in her throat. Her pulse hammered at her temples like dual hammers working the opposite sides of her head. She felt in danger of fainting.

_It looks the same, _were the only words her malfunctioning brain could string together. _It looks the same as Neo-Queen Serenity's crown. I've seen it before. It looks the same._

Unaware of her daughter's current state of mind (or perhaps simply refusing to address that glassy look in her eyes), Serenity continued, lowering the blazing diadem even as she spoke. _"Take this symbol and wear it with pride and humility. And know that tonight, you are no longer a Princess."_

Blinking like a newborn, Usagi gazed into the silver eyes of her mother and felt her back straighten unconsciously. She observed the crown being lowered, lowered – then it disappearing from view.

_"Tonight, you become -"_

There was a soft _clink _as the tiara was locked into place among the pear studs in her hair.

_" – a Queen."_

…

In the past, birthdays had always been a big deal at the Tsukino house. No matter the celebrant, parent or child, the passing of the occasion had always been marked with singing, a huge cake, and a roomful of smiles. Usagi could easily recall every one of hers with a fondness that time had not dulled in the slightest. So vivid were the memories. Memories of going to bed on June 29, of staying up all night, unable to sleep due to an overload of anxious anticipation, and then waking in the morning to find that she _had_ actually managed to sleep for an hour or two.

She could remember each birthday perfectly because each one mirrored exactly the one before. Like the changing of seasons or the coming of the tide, the celebration always followed the same ritual. First Usagi would go bounding down the stairs, her thudding footsteps serving as a signal for her already assembled parents to take their places. And then (without a breath of hesitation) she would barge into the kitchen to find that the cold functionality of the day before had transformed overnight into a magical fairyland of streamers and confetti. And then the inevitable question: "So, Usagi, do you _feel _any older?" to which she would always reply in the negative. It got to be a running joke – Ikuko Mama and Kenji Papa asking her (more and more desperately, it seemed) if she felt any more mature, with Usagi (her mouth smeared with cake icing) always cheerfully replying no, she didn't feel different in the slightest, actually. And then, as was the routine, Mama and Papa would sigh, throw up their hands, declare their daughter a hopeless case, and proceed with the offering of presents.

Year upon year, and no change. From toddler to teen, always the same answer: No, no difference.

She liked to think she adapted well. To her, unexpected turns in life's road were part of the course. You either compensated for the bumps along the way or were jolted out of your vehicle of choice. Such was the philosophy that had carried her in good stead through much of her life. She was a hard one to faze. Her transform from below-average schoolgirl to sailor-suited champion of justice? A relatively smooth transition. The subsequent discovery that _she_ was the Moon Princess of lore? Startling, but adaptable.

But this?

Had her parents been alive to ask, Usagi would've been forced to admit that this time … this time the change had caught up to her.

The weight of the crown upon her head was like the weight of a thousand ages bearing down on her heart.

_"I bequeath my throne to you, my daughter," _the former Queen was saying. And as she spoke these words, she reached out and motioned with her hands for Usagi to come.

She did, leaving Mamoru and the world behind.

In a low voice, whispered directly into the ear canal as if confessing a grand secret, the mother then granted a new name to the daughter. _"I bestow upon you the name _Neo-_Queen Serenity."_

That name. That sacred title. Hearing it being uttered aloud, and in reference to _her_, was like a transfiguration of the soul. Usagi could feel it, the change, growing ever more strongly inside her. A tiny ember giving rise to a scarlet blaze. The passing of the crown had changed everything about her - her status, her name, her very being. She felt like a newborn babe that has finally reached its last level of reincarnation before paradise. She felt like a butterfly, having shed the identity of caterpillar through the miracle of the cocoon. From Princess to Queen. From a girl called Usagi to this new woman, Neo-Queen Serenity.

It still didn't seem completely real.

She was still trying to sort it all out in her mind when the Queen (and Usagi found that she still thought of her that way, as an eternal Queen, abdication or no) bent forward and kissed her forehead, directly upon her crescent moon marking. The spot swelled with pleasant warmth at the touch.

_"Rule with your mind," _the lips said as they departed from the skin. "_Lead with your heart."_

Usagi nodded. It was a simple piece of advice, but one she planned on keeping in mind through the rest of her reign.

Cool hands on her arms now, turning her around. Like an inanimate music box ballerina, she spun back to the crowd on rigid legs. At this point, she almost expected the air to erupt into a chorus of "Hail, Neo-Queen Serenity!" But the night retained its respectful silence. Those who knew what was going on were too moved to speak and the ignorant ones too confused to do anything but stare straight ahead. Shingo was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared again behind a mountain range of heads and shoulders. Naru was out there, standing in either the third or fourth row back from the front, but Usagi couldn't see her face. Only the girl's wavy red hair and attached ribbon had distinguished her from the multitude. They bobbed amongst the other heads like a buoy atop choppy waters. And if that was indeed Naru, Gurio probably wasn't too far behind.

"Now just as the Princess has become Queen, so too must the Prince become King."

Now who was this? A male voice, but not one of the Shitennou. It sounded far too young to belong to one of them. But if not one of them, then who?

Turning to the left, Usagi saw that just as Serenity had moved aside to allow for the Four Kings to make way, they were doing the same now themselves, allowing three new characters to enter onto this crazy stage. The first one to approach was the shortest of the trio. His outward appearance was that of a child on the cusp of puberty, but like so many of the other players in this drama, Usagi knew that his unblemished face and hairless cheeks served to mask his real age, which was ancient, beyond ancient – as old as the earth itself. His hair was the spotless white of cumulus clouds; his eyes shone out like twin suns. His garments were of an otherworldly fashion: a white tasseled blouse / robe combination belted tight over white slacks. Clear crystals hung from his ears. A red teardrop-shaped marking, similar in size to an Indian bindi glittered on his forehead. Dressed the way he was and with such a serious expression on his boyish face, he looked like an underage holy man contemplating the sinful nature of the world and all its inhabitants.

This time the recognition came instantly. But it was Makoto who expressed it first.

"Helios!"

The gravity in the boy's face dissolved immediately. He smiled shyly and bowed at the waist. "Princess Jupiter. It's nice to see you again. It's nice to see _everyone_ again."

He made it no further than that. The girls had swamped him. Mercury through Pluto, they ran at him, each one trying to outdistance the others to reach him first. A sharp look of sheer terror, perfectly comical in its seriousness, contorted his face at the sight of the seven women bearing down on him (which Usagi considered a very reasonable reaction for a boy his age) and then he disappeared. Lost beneath a tidal flow of squeals and giggles.

Examining the scene, Usagi noticed a curious absence. Hotaru was missing yet again.

Alarm bells flared jarringly in her mind and she stiffened, already on the lookout for the wayward girl. Where had she run off to now? Another sudden disappearance didn't exactly bode well. Not after all she had experienced.

Assuming the worst, Usagi tried to take a step forward but was held back by the same delicate hands that had given her the crown. One of them patted her shoulder while the other drew out beyond with a finger extended. Serenity was pointing at something. At … At Hotaru. The former Queen had spotted her. She was standing off by herself, partially concealed by the shadow of a leaning building. Seeing her that way, looking like the outcast she had been almost all her life, Usagi felt her heart throb with aching pity. Had nothing changed in her? Had she further regressed back into her dark shell despite all that she had been taught?

Once more, Usagi struggled to go to her but was held back. The reassuring pat-on-the-shoulder action made a reappearance. Apparently the Queen didn't want her to comfort her friend. _Well, I'm sorry if I ruin the moment, _she thought crankily, _but I have to make sure all the progress I made over there hasn't been completely flushed down the tube._

Again she tried to force her way forward (this time in a manner a little harsher than before) and again the cool hands restrained her. Frustrated, Usagi swung her head toward her mother (with the intention of enlightening her), but stopped when the Queen gave her shoulders a squeeze. The action had the effect of instantly palpating the worry and frustration right out of her system.

_"Where are you in such a rush to run off to, dear?"_

_ Well, Hotaru, _Usagi meant to say. But she didn't. She had the feeling that the Queen already knew. So instead of making a fool of herself, Usagi turned back and took a closer look. This time, instead of judging Hotaru's demeanor solely on her position in relation the other members of the group, Usagi took into account the expression on the girl's face – which was happy. There was a smile there, a small one, slightly crooked. And it changed everything about the situation. She wasn't lonely or feeling left out. No, she had just decided to let the others have their fun first. Probably she also figured one more body atop poor Helios and the boy's spine would snap like a twig under all the weight.

She must've sensed eyes on her, for the smile vanished. She titled her head in Usagi's direction. The new Queen smiled at her and nodded. Hotaru's grin, alarmingly adult in nature, returned and the girl threw up her hands as if to say, _What can you do with 'em? I'm helpless here._

Meanwhile, Helios had resurfaced. "It's nice to know you haven't forgotten me," he said in a shaky voice, suggesting that he hadn't yet gotten over the surprise of his enthusiastic welcome. "But I-"

He broke off and looked to his right. Minako had attached herself to his arm like a bloodsucking leech. The boy coughed. Minako didn't seem to get the hint. She simply remained there, squeezing and smiling, blissfully unaware of any embarrassment she might be causing, quite at home in her own internal wonderland. Then came Haruka to the rescue, releasing Helios by way of a playful slap to Minako's arm.

Helios blushed to the roots of his tussled hair. He patted Minako briefly on the hand and then quickly yanked it back, obviously not trusting her with another one of his appendages. "But I fear my stay here must be short. It's dangerous to leave Elysion unattended for any length of time the way we have. If an enemy were to take advantage of our absence…"

There was no need to elaborate. Contained within the Earth's core, the holy land known as Elysion acted as the heart of the planet, providing life and natural resources for the inhabitants above. A lush rainforest of endless rose-fields and crystal mountain ranges, it had, once upon a distant time, also served as the capital of the Golden Kingdom – Earth's answer to the Moon's Silver Millennium. These days, however, it existed as a secret oasis, inhabited solely by its high priest and his two shrine maidens.

The same ones standing surface-top now.

"Prince Endymion?"

Mamoru faced Helios, nervousness twitching the edges of his face. "Um, yeah?" And then, because that hadn't sounded very professional: "I mean, yes?"

"As Priest of sacred Elysion and custodian of the royal family, it is thus my duty but chiefly my _honor_ to oversee your newest transformation." Having said this, Helios made some kind of quick gesture with his hand, summoning one of the maenads to his side. She came at once, flying to her master's aide with feet light as feathers. In the same way as her twin, she was dressed in a Romanesque manner – a plain white toga, belted just below the bosom. The two of them were also wearing the galaxy's most popular hairstyle, odango with pigtails. But unlike her sister (or clone, or however the two were related, if they were at all), this one carried a staff in her hands. And unlike Usagi's scepter with its twinkling ornaments and sleek curves, the one the maiden was presenting to Mamoru looked almost nondescript in its simplicity. Measuring as tall as its wielder, it was a smooth uniform white, from its dull base to its lantern-shaped tip.

Mamoru took it only with hesitation, stealing a deer-in-the-headlights glance at Usagi the instant the maenad's back was turned. Usagi could only shrug and smile. Now it was _his_ turn to weather the discomfort of official ceremony.

Another gesture from Helios brought the second shrine maiden forward. This one held a large basin in her hands. A golden-threaded cloth had been folded across the dish's edge.

Without speaking or explaining himself, Helios went to the bowl, rolled up his sleeves, and plunged both hands into the water it held. He then took the cloth, swirled it around in the liquid and dabbed it to Mamoru's cheeks. Wringing the towel dry, it was then handed off to one of the maidens while Helios traced a wet thumb along Mamoru's forehead.

Then came words. Usagi did not recognize a single syllable being spoken from the priest's mouth; neither Japanese nor English (the only two languages she had any passing understand of), it sounded to her uneducated ears like a mixture of Latin and something else … something older. The original tongue of the Earth, perhaps.

_"Shakalaam, nii ori-idos."_

_ "Harahm," _the Shitennouincanted.

Usagi flicked an eye toward them. They seemed to be in the know even if Mamoru wasn't.

Now Helios' thumb was tracing a circle upon his brow. _"El shipatum ke mundus."_

_ "Harahm," _went the Shitennou.

The thumb drew down along the length of Mamoru's nose and as the Prince tried to visually follow the trail, his blue eyes became cross-eyed, very nearly causing Usagi to break out into giggles. It was a threat that quickly passed. She doubted if it would be appreciated under such solemn circumstances.

_"Ma ba. Ma ha. Shiotanuse tae rizgen."_

_ "Harahm del harahm."_

Leaving behind the face, Helios placed his drawing hand upon Mamoru's chest. Over the heart. The two maenads did the same. All the faces involved were serious.

Helios gravely patted the Prince's breast twice (though Usagi was unsure if the number held any significance) and spoke one final word: "King."

Thus the transition was finished, having been completed through the ceremonial use of water and the speaking of words. From Prince to King. King Endymion. And he looked the part. Standing there beneath the night in that lavender tuxedo, those jeweled decorations on his lapel flashing like silver in a cave of darkness, that mask, the staff in his hands – there were no words to describe the majesty of his appearance. The eyes behind the mask bespoke of wisdom far removed from conventional knowledge. The gloved hand tightly grasping the staff indicated his competence, the firm nature in which he would soon rule. But his mouth was soft, relaxed – promising fairness.

He was King and Usagi was Queen and the enemy had been defeated. All was right and good.

"I know you will do your lineage proud," Helios said, planting a dainty kiss on each of Mamoru's cheeks. "And now, I must mid you-" he turned to the rest of the group. "-and the rest of you farewell."

_"As must I," _Serenity said.

"What? Already?" Hands clasped tight to her chest, Usagi spun to face her mother. "You can't go. I mean, not yet." She turned to Helios. "You either. You just got here."

Makoto chuckled. "Yeah. At least stay for the party, huh?"

But their minds were already made up. It was written on their faces, that horrible word _Goodbye_. Each of them wore the identical expression as the other: a tiny smile, equal parts joy and sadness. Unshed tears afforded both sets of eyes with that extra bit of shine. Silver and Gold. Former Queen and ancient priest. Both struggling to say goodbye; maybe for good in Serenity's case. Yes, Usagi thought that was right. Looking into her mother's face, she had the idea that this would be the last time the two of them would see each other. In this world, at least. Because the crown had been passed, had it not? The new generation had succeeded the old, and what is a former queen but a relic of the past?

Usagi understood these things, did not care for them, but knew it had to be so. Still, she wanted to send her predecessor off with a heartfelt message of thanks and appreciation, knowing it would be the least she could do.

Yet all she could come up with, the total sum of her final farewell, was: "Thank you. For … for everything."

But of course the Queen understood. That wistful smile still on her face, she reached out and traced a long finger around the curve of Usagi's face. _"You are most certainly welcome. But I do have one last gift to give before I go."_

And before Usagi could ask just what it was, the heavens parted, drawing the new Queen's attention skyward. She watched with a kind of awestruck terror as the thick clouds that had been smothering the city were now rolled back all at once, like the ebb of soot-colored waters rushing back to sea.

The newly revealed night skies were perfect in their beauty. Stars shimmered like gems stitched upon a canvas of velvet, each one shining forth its own cosmic beauty. The moon hung overhead, larger than Usagi had ever seen it. And it _was_ larger, no doubt about it. This was no mere trick of the horizon line. No, it had somehow moved closer to the earth - so close that its graceful white underbelly seemed to have breached the upper levels of earth's atmosphere. It also appeared to have changed from a sphere of dusty rock to an orb of quartz. Every crater, every miniscule line present on its surface was now highlighted in glinting diagrams of silver. Having dismissed the reflective light of the sun, it shone now with its own brilliance.

Then there was the Castle of the Silver Millennium, uprooted from its place on the moon, now descending through space on a course for earth. From her spot so far away, Usagi saw it as little more than a tiny speck, a black dot lost against the massive frame of the moon, of space. But as it continued to sink (smoothly, like a fishing lure slipping easily through water), its stone pillars and domed ceilings became ever more pronounced and Usagi knew that just as the new Silver Millennium was to be an earthly kingdom, so too must the castle drop from the constellations to the world below.

Somebody took her hand. It might've been Mamoru or one of the girls. Or one of the Shitennou, for all she knew. She did not look to see. Every ounce of her attention was directed upward, to the amazing sight unfolding above their heads. Everything else was just noise. Words had lost their ability to describe. Later, in the years to come, poets would attempt to describe the scene and fail miserably. The witnesses present, the faceless, silent souls watching with glazed eyes, would later put their memories of the event to paper, consigning the facts of the night to history books; and while some of the accounts are quite interesting, with stunning imagery layered atop personal antidotes, not a one of the original authors felt their accounts did the night justice.

Who am I, then, to even attempt to put the scene to words? It would be like trying to describe the _Mona Lisa _to a blind man. And who could do that? What author, famous or otherwise, could put that smile into words? Who would be foolish enough to even _try_ such a ridiculous thing? The woman on that canvas belongs exclusively to the medium of the visual arts. Similarly, what really happened on the night of March 23rd exists only within the hearts of those who experienced it firsthand. For those lucky few hundred, it was as much an emotion as it was an event.

But the facts are these:

Usagi remained rooted to her spot, her chin at a near 90-degree angle with the sky. Her eyes were wide. They burned. She hadn't blinked once since looking up. And though it felt like pencil shavings blowing across her eyes, though the whites had turned red, she refused to miss even a millisecond of what was going on. For a woman of her years, she had been through a lot, had been given many a hard hand by the dealer who dealt life's cards. Even by Sailor Solider standards, she had seen more than her fair share of the bizarre. But _this _… this outdid them all. To see the Moon Castle falling weightlessly down through the cloudless night, like a balloon of stone … It was …. Well, unlike anything she had ever seen before.

As it fell ever closer to the earth, it appeared to grow larger, transforming from a tiny blackish dot to a massive stone canopy hanging precariously over a great number of upturned faces, and as it did so, Usagi found that it was looking less and less like a castle and more and more like a home. Yes. Yes, now she could remember! The memories of her past life were gradually becoming sharper, more defined. She saw the imposing flight of steps leading up to the main entranceway and remembered, vividly, how they were slightly bowed at the center, the result of a millennium's worth of heavy traffic. Usagi shivered as she remembered how it was: a continuous escalator of people upon those steps, the ones entering the Castle stopping to greet the ones exiting, everyone with a smile on their face, Queen Serenity waiting inside to hear from her people, giving each one her undivided time and attention.

_And the windows just below the top tier there? Those look into the ballroom. And that row just below the dome, that was the Queen's bedchambers. And the servants' quarters were there, and the audience hall was there, and - _

She knew it all, every elegant curve, every decorative pillar. Knew it very well.

Then there was a flash of light, bright as a supernova flare. Those on the ground who had been watching this curious UFO descend now screamed and took cover, shielding eyes and pressing hands to hearts. The hand that had been holding Usagi's fluttered away with a sharp cry. And Usagi herself was finally forced to close her eyes. Yet the closing of her eyes did nothing to diminish the glory of the reborn moon. She could still feel it, _see_ it. It was warm on her skin, like the lazy heat offered by a noontime sun. It seared through her eyelids like the blinding flash of a snapping camera. This light, the literal dawning of a new age.

And accompanying it all: the scent of roses. Compared to the dazzling intensity of the light, the odor was nothing more than a ghost of a thing, playfully flicking at her nose, gone before she had a chance to inhale. A dozen rose pedals swept away by a sudden brisk wind.

_Goodbye, mother, _Usagi thought, without a trace of the remorse or sorrow she had experienced earlier. Queen Serenity had taught her many an important lesson, but now the lesson had been learned. Now her spirit could finally rest.

Then came the sound of a horse's neighing to her ears, a sound she instantly reclassified as belonging to a Pegasus. Then the flapping of mighty wings. After that, silence.

Gradually the light diminished. Usagi observed it growing dimmer through closed eyes, the radiant whiteness becoming more and more subdued but never extinguishing. What was once a searchlight shining painfully into the eyes had shrunk to the more manageable glow of a softly flickering candle. …Except that wasn't exactly right. Nothing had shrunk or diminished in the slightest. The glory was still there in its entirety; it had merely been smoothed out in a manner as to make it more easily perceived with mortal eyes.

A good thing, too, because now the scattered few hundred were opening their eyes. Usagi could hear a great many feet shuffling as a great many bodies struggled to right themselves. Somebody close to her groaned. Artemis, it sounded like, but she couldn't be sure. She had not yet opened her eyes. Didn't want to. She wished to prolong the moment, to extend it as far as it would stretch without breaking.

The others, though, they certainly weren't waiting. And whatever the sight they were seeing, it proved amazing enough to elicit a bevy of reactions – something not even the sight of talking cats could entice from them. Usagi heard it first from an unknown female standing not too far away.

"What _is_ it?"

Her question served as the light that ignited the powder keg. At first there were only more displaced murmurings: "Ooh, my head", or, "What was that light?" but with recovery fast setting in, the voices grew in number, one leading to dozens, giving way to hundreds. Usagi stood as she was, eyes serenely closed against the excitement unfolding around her. The light playing across her lids flickered and waned as the curious crowd moved across the source. From the quick glimmer of the interrupted glow, they appeared to be dancing. They seemed happy, at least. Their cries and shouts and hollers didn't sound particularly distressed. Not that she could make out much of what was being said, anyway. Most of the details had gotten lost in the chorus of a hundred voices speaking at once, each one trying to override the other for dominance. Standing in the midst of it was like putting your ear against the skin of a beehive. The shouting voices were buzzing hornets, and Usagi felt sure that if she opened her eyes, she would see the people around her crawling all over themselves in a similar fashion as –

"What is it, glass?"

"Like a castle or … or _some_thing!"

Usagi tightened her mouth, forced her eyes to remain closed. Not yet.

"Did it just appear there?"

"Yeah, it just – like, flash! – just like that!"

She did not recognize any of the immediate voices but hoped she would in time. She hoped to know each of her subjects intimately given the time.

"It's amazing!"

Not yet.

"It's so tall!"

Not yet.

"No, I think it's crystal. …See?"

Enough. She could stand no more of this self-inflicted torture. Time to open the eyes.

So she did.


	31. Chapter 26 part III

Chapter 26 (part 3)

She would never forget the sight of it, not as long as she lived.

To anyone else, the whole thing would've looked like a confused mismatch, as if someone had taken two different snapshots of two different scenes and accidentally overlaid the dual images in a double exposure. Even Usagi had to admit that it looked a little strange – the sleek, untarnished facade of the Crystal Palace set against the charred husk of a city completely gutted by fire.

Then again … Usagi titled her head slightly to the right. Actually, the inappropriateness of the beauty seemed to fit, somehow. Compared to the ruined flatness of the surrounding area, it _did_ look a little strange, yet perfectly natural at the same time. It looked as if it had always been there, invisible, perhaps, but always there. Like the last piece of a complicated puzzle, the Palace had snapped into place with the rest of the landscape - so thoroughly that Usagi thought it probably meshed better with post-apocalyptic Tokyo than with any other city in the world.

A list of other possible locations ran through her mind at the thought: Washington, Hong Kong, London, all respectable communities, all pillars of their own nations, but none worthy of the Crystal Palace. It would look strange anywhere else, just as the Sydney Opera House would look strange amid the rice fields of China, or the Empire State Building jetting up through the tangled foliage of a Brazilian rainforest. No, it belonged here in Tokyo to act as an incentive to rebuild.

But oh, it was so beautiful.

Ugh. Usagi grimaced at the word. The Crystal Palace was no more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel's ceiling was merely _pretty. _The word was much too clunky; too dull to be used in relation to the building she was standing in front of. But how else could you describe it? Majestic? Splendid? Haunting? Every word she tried to attribute to the Palace was insignificant. Each catalogued only a fraction of the overall lavishness.

It looked like a bouquet of icicles. That was the primary comparison that struck Usagi when first she opened her eyes. The whole thing was tight right angles and smooth faces where the edges met. Without anything nearby to judge its size against, determining an accurate measure of height would prove difficult, but Usagi thought it had to be at least as tall as a 100-story building. It was big at any rate. Standing near the base, Usagi found herself unable to see the top of the ascending spires, no matter how far backward she craned her neck. It was as wide as a city block, tall as a small mountain.

The Crystal Palace, a cluster of translucent towers soaring upward as if to pierce the floor of heaven above. All silver and soft and shining in the darkness.

_I faced Death Phantom here for the first time, _Usagi thought randomly. _The battle took place right here. Right where I'm standing. Except … it wasn't here, but a thousand years from now. And now I'm standing in the same spot where I'll fight him again. Again for the first time._

Or something. Making sense of time and the travels they had taken through it was probably a feat best left to Setsuna.

Well, now that the suspense had given way to the event itself, there was only one thing left to do.

Time to join in on the celebration.

Grinning like a fool, Usagi threw herself forward into the mix of people circling the Palace. They looked like museum patrons revolving around a most curious exhibit, albeit a much more jovial crowd than any gallery had probably ever seen. It would've been an ideal picture-postcard depiction of a good time, except that Usagi noticed even the most rambunctious patron was sure to remain at least a few yards away from the base of the Palace. It was a reaction she couldn't fault anybody with. For all they knew, this was just a _Silver_ Poison Crystal to replace the Black one.

_Well, let's see if we can put those fears to rest, _Usagi thought, and took a stride forward.

Just then, however, Makoto grabbed her arm, curtailing any progress she would've made. She was crying. Or had been until very recently. Tearstains ran from both eyes and a smear of snot could be seen shimmering just below the nostril region. She looked a mess with her runny nose and red eyes, but Usagi thought that in this moment, she looked prettier than she had ever seen her.

"Kinda … kinda makes it all worthwhile, huh?"

Did it? Usagi looked anew at the Palace, trying to see what Makoto had seen. It looked back down on her, waiting to be appraised, its many faces throwing back rivers of light, its exterior a radiant wall of jeweled crystal. It was nice, a wonderful sight to behold, but Usagi didn't agree with Makoto's statement. Too much had been lost. The bodies were stacked to high. Nothing, not even this, could make that kind of destruction "worthwhile". If given the opportunity, Usagi would have gladly exchanged her crown and title forever to spare the lives that had been extinguished. That was the most precious thing. Life. More so than anything else.

Thankfully, though, Makoto did not wait for an honest answer. She turned instead toward her fellow Soldiers (who had intermingled among the larger crowd) and ran at them, leaving Usagi in darker spirits than she had been before.

All the dead. All the families broken forever. So many stories ended before their tales could be told to the fullest. The Crystal Palace was resting atop a hundred thousand corpses and there wasn't a single thing that could be done about it. In this moment of bleak understanding, it resembled nothing more than an exquisite gravestone.

Her mind still chronicling the list of unknown dead, Usagi did not hear the scurry of footsteps hurrying in her direction. If she had, she might've anticipated what was coming and braced for it accordingly. As it happened, though, she was taken completely off guard when the body struck her and would've fallen had a pair of hands not seized her about the waist.

It felt as if a sack of bricks had been hurled at her. Dazed and gasping for the air that had been wrenched out of her lungs, she struggled against her attacker blindly, hoping that the others would see what was happening before the maniac had a chance to slit her throat or perform any other heinous acts he had a mind to perform. She felt certain that it was Death Phantom already back from the furthest reaches of the solar system, those evil hands of his aching for a swift revenge.

Except it wasn't, of course. Tumbling over her attacker, Usagi caught a brief sighting of sandy-colored hair and knew at once who had crashed into her so rudely.

"So. Now that you gotta minute, mind explaining what's up?"

Usagi favored her brother with what she hoped was a look of extreme irritation. "Well, I'm Queen of the Solar System for one thing."

His green eyes danced evilly. "That so?"

"Yes. And I happen to be the rightful heir to the Silver Crystal, an object with the power to blow away an obnoxious brother without so much as a thought."

"Real-ly?"

"Yes. _Really_." She smiled, making an effort to show off her incisors. "Wanna see how it works?"

Shingo waved a hand. "Maybe later." Undaunted by his sister's harsh looks; he slid to her side with the ease of a snake oil salesman and hooked an arm casually around her neck.

Unable to maintain her stony expression, Usagi giggled and bonked Shingo playfully on the head. Even wrapped in silk and with a crown atop her head, she knew in an instant that her brother would never acknowledge her as Neo-Queen Serenity. To him she would always be his cootie-faced big sister, Dumb Ol' Usagi.

And she didn't mind it in the least.

"So you're Queen of the Solar System?" He asked this in a conversational tone, as if discussing just another one of life's plain facts.

"I sure am. I've come a long way, baby."

"So if you're Queen, that makes me a prince."

Usagi frowned. The image that popped into mind, Shingo in purple tights with ribbons in his hair, wasn't a pleasant one. "No. 'Fraid not."

"Sure I am."

"No you're not."

"Am."

"Not."

"Well, who decided to make you Queen? I want a title too."

Too easy. "Oh, I can think of a title for you, you little snot. Would you like to hear it?"

Shingo sighed and rolled his eyes in a very pre-teen fashion. "Whatever." He pointed to something behind her. "So what's that? Your new home?"

At first she hadn't the faintest notion of what he was talking about, lost as she was in yet another sibling spat. Then, following the trail of his finger, she saw the Crystal Palace, glittering cool and clean beneath a gorged full moon. Seeing this brought everything back into focus with an almost audible _click. _

"Yeah, I guess so," she said softly.

Shingo opened his mouth to form yet another blasé dismissal (wanting to make sure she knew he was not at all impressed with this change of address – so she was going to live in a castle; big deal) when he abruptly closed it. The look on his sister's face was one of distraction. Her brow was knotted together in a collection of lines. Her lips were puckered, an outward sign that her thought processes were grinding in full gear. Taking all this into account, Shingo thought it better not to let loose his final dozy. It would probably be wasted anyway, with Usagi staring out into space the way she was.

Actually…

"Usagi?"

No response.

"Usagi?"

Bing! Her face tightened at once, the wrinkles on her forehead smoothing, her mouth realigning itself back into something not so strained. An idea had struck, as suddenly as lightning sparking above a deserted prairie, and Usagi knew she must act on it at once or risk loosing the spark.

_A home…_

She turned from Shingo, almost rudely, and left him there, staring after her as she nudged through the swirling bands of people. Most allowed her to ease by without comment, but a few wild-eyed strangers actually stopped to shake her hand or to offer a few words of what she guessed were supposed to be thanks. Or so she thought. To be honest, those few who spoke to her sounded like drunken partygoers moments before sobriety's crashing return. They would grab her, speak jumbled sentences into her ear (shouting over the abundant noise) and then detach themselves, swept along with the relentless flow. Far from being annoyed, however, Usagi made an effort to stop and look each one of them in the eye as they tittered out their messy lines. She smiled and nodded at what she thought were the appropriate times, and when they had turned from her, she patted each one on the back as a gesture of thanks for their kind words.

Apart from the joy-drunk revelers, the other great obstacle proved to be the sheer number of people between her and _it_. Uncountable and always on the move, their bodies created a human moat around the perimeter of the Palace, one that Usagi would have to cross. She did so slowly and with great patience, taking it one step at a time, respectfully brushing aside the people in front of her the way she would've brushed branches away from her face had she been walking through a path in the forest.

Eventually she came to the clearing on the other side. Breaking free of the lighthearted mob was like being birthed from a second womb, and when at last she had moved aside the final set of bodies, she found her breath stolen from her all over again.

Having sensed her oncoming approach, the once featureless exterior of the Palace had altered itself to allow for entry. An entire slab of crystal had vanished, thus giving display to the castle's only entrance. Set into a niche beneath a double archway of stone were two gates of swirling wrought iron. Flanking this were trios of Corinthian columns, their ornate capitals supporting a glossy overhang of crystal shelving. A small flight of stairs (consisting of no more than seven steps) led to the doorway, which was elevated slightly above the ground.

And as Usagi stood before them, the gates swung open by their own accord, beckoning her enter. These were the doors to Heaven, and they were open for her. Paradise resided here among these halls of crystal. The future lurked beyond that open doorway, behind the white glow. The world was hers. This Palace of Silver Crystal recognized her authority; that was why it had opened itself unto her. All she had to do was take the physical throne. Just that.

Yet she did not enter through the gates like some proud and conquering hero. No. Instead, she turned her back on the whole thing and faced the people.

"Um … excuse me! Can … can I have a moment of your time, please?"

The entire city went silent immediately. Every face present turned toward her. Open mouths stayed open. Those arms that had been raised aloft in celebration remained that way. A young couple caught in the act of kissing parted company slightly, breaking lip contact. Their tongues, however, continued on, indifferent.

All eyes were on her.

"Yeah, hi." She coughed. Cleared her throat. Reminded herself of the crown atop her head. "It's me again. Sorry everyone, but I've got yet another speech to make."

To her amazement the majority of the crowd chuckled.

"I just wanted to say-"

_"Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"_

Usagi recoiled, embarrassed but not really surprised.

"Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"

It was Haruka, who had shoved her way through the swarm and now stood along the edge of the multitude, right hand pumping into the sky as if it were a driving piston. Michiru stood at her side, hip to hip, cheeks rosy, eyes moist.

Again the exclamation: "Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!"

It spread like wildfire, that cry. Those nearest Haruka and Michiru picked up on it immediately and by the time the other Princesses pushed their way forward, it had become an invincible mantra. Irreversible. Inescapable. And though Usagi had absolutely no desire to be praised in such a fashion, she knew that halting the chorus would prove impossible. Nothing could stop it. The relentless cheers, the hundred arms stabbing the air in tandem – she felt as if she were trapped in some mountain cottage watching through a window at an avalanche roaring down upon her. With no method of averting the onslaught, there was nothing left to do but endure and wait it out.

But three minutes later and with the cries showing no signs of abating, Usagi decided she had better intervene. If not, she had the idea that the pep rally might very well last into the wee hours of the morning.

Smiling her thanks, Usagi held her hands out before her as if to ward off a pack of hungry lions. "Thank you. I appreciate this, but-"

Hearing her voice only inspired the cheering mass to crank it up another notch. Orgasmic shouts of "Long live Neo-Queen Serenity" continued to rain down upon her, smothering the words in her mouth like a forceful hand.

She tried again, tried to speak, but couldn't even hear her own voice through the chanting.

_"Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"_

_ "Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"_

Usagi sighed and closed her eyes. The avalanche was upon her. To anyone else, the cheering would have acted like water running through the ears, filling the skull and expanding the head to a bloated, arrogant size. But Usagi feared it, cowered against it. To her, the faces staring back was the same face multiplied a hundred times over – the voices chanting the same voice, only magnified. And it terrified her. These weren't people; they were drones. It reminded her of some massive cult gathering, all of them singing and chanting while they waited for the mother ship come down and whisk them all away to paradise. Such mindless devotion was unnerving – especially when seen etched on the faces of her teammates (standing like bowling pins along the outside rim of the throng, clapping and shouting with the rest).

_They resent you._

Death Phantom's words rang dimly in her brain.

_They resent you so much._

Did they? Looking out at their bright, smiling faces, you wouldn't think so; but Usagi, who had experience with secret identities, knew (probably better than most) that outward appearances don't always reflect the true self. Who knew what secrets hid behind those faces?

Do_ you resent me? Do you feel obligated toward me? _She moved her eyes along the row of familiar faces, silently asking each of them the question she would never voice aloud. It was a question she would never get an honest answer to. They loved her and because they loved her, they would lie.

Duty and desire. Did it have to be one or the other? Was there no way of balancing the two? More than anything else, she wanted her friends to be happy. And a life lived in subservience didn't exactly sound all that fulfilling. No; true happiness could only be found chasing those suppressed dreams, by exploring those unreachable heights.

Hmmm … that was something to think about.

In the meantime, though, there was the matter of the unruly crowd to contend with.

_"Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"_

_ "Long live Neo-Queen Serenity!!"_

Gosh, didn't they come up for air? Usagi sighed. If only they would –

_"QUIET!!!!"_

Everyone – every_thing_ – froze. Usagi included.

"Your Queen wishes to speak!"

Very slowly, fearing another outburst, Usagi turned at the neck to see Hotaru standing beside her. Still dressed in full uniform, she held the Silence Glaive stretched out above the heads of the joyous rabble. Suspended the way it was, it looked (to Usagi's eyes at least) a little like the blade of a guillotine.

Not quite the method of crowd control she would've preferred, but at least now it was quiet enough for her to finally speak the words on her mind.

"I just wanted to say that this isn't a happy ending," she began.

Faces lowered to examine shoes. A few people coughed. The festive mood died a quick death.

"That's not to say that things didn't turn out okay in the end," she continued, "but I'm sure you'll all agree that a great many sacrifices were made tonight…" Ghost images of her parents rose to mind like twin corpses floating on a stormy sea. It was an unpleasant image, their faces, and she forced it away, knowing sooner or later she would have to come to terms with her repressed grief on the subject.

"We've lost just about everything - our homes, our city, whatever wealth we might've had … but all that can be replaced in time. A home is the memories made within a building, not the building itself. A city is really just a collection of individuals. Money is just a paper symbol that we give meaning to. But human life – that's the one thing we can never replace; the most precious thing."

Whispers of agreement. A few scattered sobs.

"We'll rebuild," Usagi said. Her voice was sure and strong, indicating that the matter of rebuilding wasn't an option but a decree. "And we'll move on with our lives, but we'll never forget those that have went on ahead before us.

"They wait in the stars. Watching us. Guiding us.

"Our friends. Our loved ones. Our family.

"We'll celebrate, we'll move on and put this behind us, but the one thing we _won't _do is forget."

The crowd roared their determination, and Setsuna, though no longer guardian of the Space-Time Door (in her current incarnation, at least) was nevertheless inexplicably granted a vision of the future that was to come. Though fleeting, it was a hopeful sight, one that bespoke of a future even greater than the one she had come from - one where the Queen freely intermingled with her subjects on a global scale, one where the Crystal Palace was a home to all, not just a fortress to be used by the Royal Family only.

For all their worrying, the future _had_ changed. But for the better. Utopia had been perfected.

"Times have been hard," Usagi continued, screaming over the thunderous ovation. "Homes have been lost! Dreams have been dashed! And for that reason, you have my word that these doors-" Here she swept to one side in a rippling of skirts and jabbed a finger at the Palace entrance. " – these doors will never close! They will remain open for you - for each of you seeking a home or a place to mend your broken dreams!"

And though Setsuna wouldn't have thought it possible, the applause grew louder, the cheering more intense. And before she knew it, she found herself clapping and singing her song of gladness right along with all the others. Each hymn was slightly different, for all those gathered before that shining Palace were thankful in their own unique way, yet all believed and all had faith.

"The door is opened for you!" Usagi repeated. Her voice rose above the clamor on a direct path to the stars above, to the place where the souls of the dead waited in repose. "Walk through and make my home yours, all of you!"

Another wail of praise swept through the flock, sweeping them all up in a swoon of ecstasy, rendering them oblivious to anything but the magic power of the Queen's words.

Because of this, the interlopers were able to steal their way into the festivities unnoticed.

Their arrival went unheeded even by the watchful eyes of Saturn.

Vulture-like, they wormed their way through the throng to the frontlines. And though the Queen saw them first, it was one of theirs who initiated conversation.

"The door is opened for all to pass through?" A sharp chuckle followed this, rounding out the question with a touch of poison. "Really? Even for the likes of us? Even for me?"

The hoorahs and applause ceased at once as a hundred hundred heads turned together to gaze with fear and loathing at an equal number of faces that each bore an inverted crescent.

…

Shocked into silence by the sudden appearance of these marked, unsmiling creatures, the crowd drew back upon itself with nothing more than a gasp. Though not afraid, (the battle had been won, after all, and in their favor) they looked upon the intruders with blatant disgust, hissing and taunting once their shock had worn off. Children darted to and fro among the marked ones, yanking on dangling bits of clothing, yipping like mad dogs while their parents looked on with approval.

The trespassers endured it all without a single word of protest. Stripped of their magic, they stood unmoving as the righteous receded from them, pretending not to hear as the half-whispered curses rained down upon them.

Yet the Queen stood her ground. And it was pity reflected in her eyes, not hate. For how could she look with hatred upon a friend?

_"The door is opened for all to pass through? Really? Even for the likes of us? Even for me?"_

Unazuki's words rolled through Usagi's mind in a lonely echo.

_Even for me?_

_ Even for me?_

"Yes," Usagi said in a voice no louder than a murmur. "Especially for you."

Either she didn't believe the words being spoken to her or perceived them to be some kind of new mockery, for her face registered resistance to the idea. Her green eyes grew hard; her mouth became a pinched scowl.

_She _doesn't _believe me, _Usagi thought with sudden heartbreaking awareness. And the thought was crushingly devastating. Had they ever been friends? Had the two of them ever laughed over a sundae, Unazuki with a tray in her arm, saying she had to go, Usagi ordering her (as a customer) to stay and chat a while longer? Had they ever? Looking at the situation as it stood now, you would never have thought so.

Luckily, though, Usagi was not the type of person swayed by outward appearances.

"Unazuki, come on. You were my friend. Still are. Now come here."

The girl did not move. Only stared.

"Fine. I'll come to you."

Usagi walked forward without any kind of hesitation whatsoever. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a few startled faces – mostly belonging to her Sailor teammates – but these she ignored. What was there to be afraid of? Death Phantom had been defeated, sealed away. And besides, hadn't _they_ approached her? Why would they have done that if not out of a desire for reconciliation?

Maybe Unazuki could shed some light on the situation.

The two of them were only inches apart now, and up this close, Usagi could make out a few new details not visible from afar. The Black Poison Crystal earrings, for instance. Although she still wore them, the actual crystal portion (the dangling part) had disappeared, leaving behind nothing more than a pair of golden hooks pierced through Unazuki's ears. Which made sense; given that there was no longer any Black Poison monolith to feed the smaller slivers power. The second thing Usagi noticed was that the black crescent mark had not faded in the least.

"Unazuki?"

The girl would not look at her. Those dazzling emeralds were directed toward the ground, taking in the broken pieces of glass and metal scattered there with a surgeon's single-minded intensity.

"Unazuki? Look at me."

But she wouldn't, so Usagi helped her along by pressing a finger under her chin and lifting slightly.

A moment later, she found herself looking into a face that was slowly crumbling. Though not in tears as of yet, Usagi judged it would only be a matter of time before the real waterworks began. Her eyes were pink, going on red, and her chin trembled as if she might be suffering from some kind of nervous tic. Stretched down in an exaggerated frown were her lips, also quivering.

"I don't know why I'm here," Unazuki said, forcing the few sputtering words from those uncooperative lips. Then her face _did_ crack. A look of physical pain splashed over her features, causing the eyes to squint and the mouth to pucker. But before the front could disintegrate completely, she gouged her first and middle fingers into the tear duct area and turned with a quiet sniffle.

Tearing up herself, Usagi swept the girl up into a hug, slipping one arm around her waist while bringing her head to a rest on her shoulder. At first there was a fair amount of struggling on Unazuki's part, but eventually the protests and half-hearted resistance came to an end and the ex-waitress deflated in Usagi's arms. Her limp, yet rigid body reminded the Queen of those balloons you sometimes saw at carnivals, the ones made to resemble superheroes like Spider-man or one of the Super Sentai rangers –inflexible plastic filled with air. Squeeze too hard and she might just pop.

"Motoki was a good, good man," Usagi said. And found that she, too, was crying. Because Motoki _was_ a good man. Was. As in past tense. As in previously alive but now dead. And she needed no clarification on what _that_ meant. It meant he would never again be seen behind the goody counter at the arcade (not that there was an arcade to be seen at anymore), that he would never again slip her a free game token or give her an underserved prize. That he would never be seen again. That he only existed in the world as a corpse now. As a nameless body. Usagi hated that. Hated the way people ceased to be people after death. They became bodies – as in, _We've got a lot of bodies here, _or, _There's a body by the road. _As if they had never been human. As if –

Unazuki said something.

Usagi asked her to repeat herself.

"I said he was a good brother, too." Another sniff. "The best. We never argued or anything. Not even … not even playing around, you know?"

Usagi _didn't_ know. Her own experience when it came to sibling relations was nothing so sublime. But she understood the love a sister could hold for a brother. And she knew the toll a sudden death could bring. The havoc it could wreak upon your sanity.

"That's why…"

But Usagi would not allow her to go any further. She knew. She understood. Her acceptance of the mark had been borne out of grief and an impulsive desire to express that grief outwardly. And now, now that the embers of her anger had burned away, she had come to apologize.

"It's okay," Usagi soothed as she stroked her friend's hair and breathed in the scent of smoke trapped in her clothes.

"No, it's not."

"It will be."

"It won't."

"Do you trust me?"

She laughed then, and pulled away from the embrace. "Yeah, I guess I do. But I hate myself, so…"

There it was again, that hateful admission. She'd already heard it (well, something similar) once before from Hotaru. How many more times would those same words be uttered before the coming of the morning sun? How many others were harboring similar feelings of personal inadequacy?

Quite a few, judging from the marked, melancholy faces huddled around. Which might explain why they had been persuaded to _get_ marked in the first place.

"Look, I know you're hurting," said Usagi as she continued to stroke hair. "Everyone is. And I know you've made mistakes. Everyone has. But the real mistake would be not learning …. from those …. mistakes." Or something like that. Even as these words left her mouth, Usagi rolled her eyes and chided herself for that lame attempt at providing comfort – which, according to the blank look on Unazuki's face, had crashed and thoroughly burned. It was also at this moment that she made the very grown-up observation that if her reign was to have any hope of being a success, she would have to find a speechwriter. Fast.

Meanwhile Unazuki had a look in her eye that suggested slight disappointment – almost as if she had paid a large fee for some concert tickets only to find out later the main act had canceled due to some throat sickness.

But then (thank God for all miracles, big and small), Hotaru was there, appearing almost as suddenly as Setsuna sometimes did. She stood at Unazuki's side with her hands bare, the intimidating Silence Glaive nowhere in sight. Had it been left behind at the Palace gates? Or had she simply willed it away, knowing that the time of war had since given way to a time of healing? Either way, she had arrived to offer her own personal brand of help – or so Usagi hoped.

Smiling somewhat bashfully, Hotaru traded glances between Unazuki and Usagi. A blush rising to her face, she approached the latter. "Your Highness, I believe I may be of some assistance, if you would permit me to speak."

Grateful for the help (but a little concerned about the overly reserved tone of Hotaru's voice), Usagi welcomed her in. Unazuki tracked the newcomer's movement with her eyes but made no indication otherwise of Hotaru's interjection. Her face looked saggy, her auburn hair wild and matted with grime. In other words, she looked nothing like the proud college girl Usagi had known. The night had aged her dramatically, giving her the appearance of a haggard middle-aged woman, tired from a long evening of job-related stress, marital discord, and screaming children.

"I think what Her Majesty is trying to say," Hotaru reasoned, "is that, if left unaddressed, a mistake can linger on in the soul, darkening the past while clouding your future. And before you know it, that one slip begins to define you, shaping you into a new person. And when that happens, lies become truth and friends become enemies, and when it's gotten that far, you don't know how it can be any other way." She paused. "Am I close?"

Unazuki shrugged. "Pretty warm."

Hotaru nodded and raised a clenched fist eye-level, one that she promptly opened. Resting flat against her palm was a button. Just a plain button, black and tiny. Completely ordinary in every way imaginable – yet it held Usagi's attention like nothing else. Rapt, she watched as Hotaru took the button between thumb and index, watched as the Sailor held it in front of Unazuki's face as if administering a mini Eucharist to an unresponsive worshiper. What was she planning, a magic trick? A new variation of the old coin-behind-the-ear bit?

_Maybe, _Usagi's mind snapped. _Now sit back and enjoy the show. She knows what she's doing. Trust her._

"Everyone makes mistakes. This one's mine." She held the button up for a moment longer, twisting it between her fingers, and then let it drop. Pulled downward by gravity, it fell unhindered, lost amid the night's trash – never to be recovered again. As she did this, Hotaru kept her eyes focused steadily on Unazuki. Now she smiled and brought both hands together in a brushing-off motion. "There now. See? I moved on." Her smiled faded. "It's that simple. It really is. Especially when you're being offered the choice of forgiveness."

A spark of life flickered somewhere in the dark hole of Unazuki's face. Slowly, very slowly, her features began to pull taunt again. For a moment every part of her face was held in perfect synchrony with her true age, leading Usagi to believe that Hotaru _had_ gotten through to her – then everything slid back into its former place with the sloshing speed of a mudslide.

"I wish it were that simple. I want to believe you. But I can't just peel this off and toss it away, y'know?" She had a finger pressed to the black crescent. "Even if I am forgiven or whatever, I'll always have this … this _thing _to remind me that once I screwed up and screwed up _bad_." She opened her mouth, meaning say more, but closed it suddenly, as if she no longer had the energy to explain her situation to a group of people who would never understand.

The poor girl looked so miserable that Usagi felt bad for the giggle that escaped her lips a moment later.

Unazuki didn't seem to appreciate it either. "Wow. Thanks so much. It's nice to know my internal struggles haven't affected your ability to make light of any given situation."

Taking her stern tone to heart, Usagi ceased at once with the giggles but allowed her grin to remain in place. She took hold of her friend's arms, held onto them despite another attempt at struggling free, and said: "Oh, is that what you're worried about? A little tattoo regret?" She didn't wait for a reply. Instead, she pressed a thumb to the mark, as if meaning to assess size and texture.

Positioned as it was, directly between the eyes and above the ridge of the nose, the black crescent dominated the entire upper half of the girl's face - detracting from those beautiful features, drawing the eye of the beholder elsewhere, to that ugly dark stain. To that mark, as black as fresh sin. He had branded them like cattle, had rounded them up with his deceptive promises. With comforting words and the power of an Evil Eye, he had turned these sad souls into his foot soldiers and had unleashed them upon a crumbling city like the expendable pawns he believed them to be.

How heartless. How terrible.

Usagi closed her eyes, forcibly squeezed them deep into their sockets in an effort to try and combat a flood of emotion, and opened them again. Unazuki was crying. Weeping. Uncontrollably. The others behind her were doing the same. They were sobbing, choking back cries of anguish. A few of them were holding on to others with arms slung around shoulders, strangers supporting the weight of strangers. Of particular interest was a young couple, both boy and girl no older than Usagi herself, locked together in a fearful embrace. The girl had her hands around the boy's neck and her head buried in his chest, turned away from Usagi. Her boyfriend, meanwhile, was comforting her as best he could, with soothing sounds and a stroking back massage. And while his hands worked on his girl, his face was staring out at Usagi. He was marked, as was his girlfriend in all likelihood.

Marked.

What an ugly word.

Then she turned, turned to find her eye hitting upon another couple standing only a few steps away. She recognized them almost instantly as the pair who had been engaged in that rather passionate lip lock only a moment before. Their passion, however, appeared to have tapered off, as they now stood together silently, their linked hands the only indicator that they were anything more than platonic friends.

They were the same faces. The very same. Their features were different, of course, but they were young and in love, and if it hadn't been for that blasted mark, the two couples would've been virtually interchangeable.

Usagi refastened her grip on Unazuki's arms, which felt frail and thin as tree branches in her hands. She nodded once, to show her old friend that there was no ill will, to reassure her that it _would_ be okay, then reached up with one hand and pressed her thumb against the black crescent. The spot felt abnormally warm to the touch. Or was that just a matter of imagination? Either way, Usagi did not dwell on it – for it was gone shortly thereafter, wiped clean with a sweep of the thumb. Smeared as though it were nothing but ash.

"There now," she said, with a perfunctory dusting-off of the hands gesture. "All better."

And the look on Unazuki's face suggested that she _did_ believe, that maybe she could somehow sense the thing she had not seen. Even so, the girl took a tiny step backward and put a hand to her forehead. One of her fingers ran across a streak of something that had once been black but was now gray, smudging the faint line even further.

Her eyes widened. "Is it gone? Like-"

Usagi nodded.

But Unazuki was already turning to those behind her, seeking second, third, and fourth opinions. To each person that met her eye, she asked the same question and in the same way: which consisted of her grabbing them by the shoulders and asking them if _it_ was still there and ordering them not to lie to her when they said it wasn't. She had sounded hopeful when first she began asking, then incredulous when the vote began coming back that, yes she _had_ been cleansed and no, it _wasn't_ a lie.

Now, nearly lost a river of bobbing heads (she had waded pretty far out into the crowd in an effort to quell her suspicions), she shot up a hand and began to furiously wave it. Touched, Usagi waved back, unsure if Unazuki could see her or not. For a brief moment she considered yelling out something amusing, something like: _You owe me a big one, but if you can slip me a free Chocolate Milkshake once in a while, we can let bygones be bygones. _But she kept her mouth shut. For one thing, it would've been an inappropriate thing to scream out during such a solemn occasion. For another (and more importantly), there wasn't even a Crown Fruit Parlor to serve Chocolate Milkshakes anymore. Moreover, the ex-waitress was no longer visible. She had lowered her hand and with that gone, Usagi hadn't the faintest idea where she might've been standing in the mix of two hundred (or so) people.

Not that that was anything to concern herself with right now. Because now there were more pressing matters to attend to. Because now Unazuki's friends were advancing upon her, wailing, wringing hands and begging with urgent voices to be cleansed as well. They approached slowly, respectably, but in oppressive numbers – leading Usagi to believe that her schedule was going to be pretty much booked solid for the next hour or so.


	32. Chapter 26 part IV

Chapter 26 (part 4)

She saw them moving toward her en masse, rolling forward like a bank of fog propelled by a current of wind. And seeing this, she opened her arms to them in a gesture of welcoming and reassurance. So they came. One by one, they approached her with worrisome faces and hearts strained with burden. One by one, they reached out with trembling hands and asked if forgiveness was really within her power to grant.

Her answer was always the same: _If you seek it, it shall be given to you._

And then, their uncertainty quenched, moist eyes would close and faces would be upturned.

She wiped away each black crescent that was offered to her, sealing each cleansing with a kiss of blessing. From there the line would advance forward, one repentant soul being replaced by another.

The procession was endless, or seemed to be, and Usagi found that she didn't mind it in the least. There was something self-affirming about the way they looked at her afterward – as if she had filled their emptiness with a portion of her own being, as if she had touched each of them in a special way that nobody else could duplicate. The grateful smiles, the eyes blinking back joyful tears, their hands squeezing hers … experiencing those things sent a chill through Usagi, one that touched the very core of her self. She was addicted to it. Addicted to this act of helping, of fulfilling an impossible need.

_This is where I belong, _she thought as she bent forward to kiss another face. _Among the people. _My_ people. Not trapped inside some castle._

And so it was that when the final head had bowed in thanks, Usagi eased him back to his friends with regret. The endless line had finally emptied itself out at her feet, leaving no one else in need of her assistance. Her job now done, that old familiar weariness returned with a vengeance. The adrenaline rollercoaster had completed its run and now the track was settling back into place.

She was exhausted. Her aching feet, swelled to sausages inside her 3-inch pumps, pulsated in time with her heartbeat. Her back felt strained, as if she had just been released from a round of rack-torture. Her bones were lead weights supported fraying ropes. She felt, in general, pretty terrible. _The spirit is willing, but the body is weak, _she thought with a smirk. Then frowned in an effort to recall where she had heard the line before. The facts eluded her, but it was a true enough statement no matter who had originally spoken it.

But right now, both portions of her being, body _and_ soul, felt equally drained. There was a celebration going on around her, a great big one complete with singing and dancing, but Usagi perceived these things with a sleepwalker's interest. The sounds of the victory cheers were muddled and the dancing figures cavorting in circles around her looked like wispy figures of smoke to her half-closed eyes.

_Sleep. _The word swam through her fading brain on silvery fins and Usagi rocked gently backward at the mere suggestion. And like two Venetian blinds, her already droopy eyes rolled closed. Her breathing, slow and steady, sounded like the quiet rustle of cascading waves pounding against a nighttime beach.

"Usagi?"

Ummm, it felt so good.

"Usagi?"

To just close your eyes and relax after a hard day's work.

"Usagi?"

Finding a place to lie down wasn't even a concern at the moment. She could do it standing. And she was. She could feel it, the switches in her mind flipping to the "off" position one by one.

"Usagi!"

The voice was familiar enough to rouse Usagi - barely – from her standing slumber. Sluggishly, she opened both eyes and directed them downward, from where the voice had originated.

It was Artemis. He had reverted back to feline form and was now staring up at her with concern.

"Tired?"

She nodded, too exhausted to verbally conform anything.

"Well, that's understandable. It's been a big day for you. Pretty intense."

Usagi's head dropped forward in a drunken nod.

"Well, um, Mamoru wanted me to give you this."

At the very mention of the name, Usagi's eyes snapped open to full alertness like those of a ventriloquist's dummy. No longer tired in the least, she noticed two things simultaneously: the first being that she had misplaced Mamoru (the man was nowhere to be seen), and the second being that Artemis had something in his mouth. Something … golden. Something that looked like…

"Is that a key?"

Through clenched teeth, Artemis told her that it most certainly was. It was (he went on to say) a _hotel_ key, in fact – one that opened up a room within the Dorado Hotel, where Mamoru was evidently waiting for her. There. At the Dorado Hotel. As in _the_ Dorado, the five-star luxury resort where even the most basic room was rumored to run over a million yen, where even the doorman was richer than your average lawyer.

Usagi whistled through her teeth. She was, in a word, impressed.

"Here," said Artemis, lifting his head so that the thing in his mouth could be taken.

Bending at the knee, Usagi took it in her hand and, after wiping away a film of kitty-slobber, examined it. From what she had heard, the Delgado touted itself as a nineteenth century European palace with all the conveniences of a modern-day resort. As such, they seemed to prefer actual keys to the electronic MagCard system used in most hotels. Which Usagi liked. It gave the place a kind of Old World charm.

The key in her hand was brass, highly polished to give it a golden appearance. Etched deeply into the handle were the numbers 612.

"And you said he wants me to go to him?"

"Yeah. He sent me as a messenger."

Then go to him she would. Given the amount of celebration taking place all around, she had a feeling she wouldn't be missed.

So, after giving Artemis a quick thank-you pat on the head, she turned, key in hand, and set out for her newest destination. If memory served, the Delgado was only a block away.

Yet as she turned to leave, her eye fell upon something partially hidden within the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Several somethings, actually. Too large to be animals... Ah. Not animals, people. She could make out five of them huddled together in the narrow slit. They were staring back at her, cold eyes glittering, heads tilted back in gestures of passive contempt. She couldn't make out any details due to the darkness, but she knew without seeing that the mark remained on each of their foreheads. For this group, at least, the acceptance of the black crescent had not been a choice born from desperation, but rather a willful decision. For whatever reason, they had purposely aligned themselves with Death Phantom and his crusade of death. Whatever the reason. Whatever their motivations.

Usagi held their stare for what seemed like an eternity. She was having trouble reconciling what she was seeing with all she knew about human nature. Why hadn't they accepted her offer of forgiveness? Was it possible that some people were just beyond help, that they relished their cold hearts? Perhaps their anger wasn't an inhibiting emotion as it was for most people but rather the thing that drove them forward, the thing that gave them satisfaction. Regardless, she wouldn't force the change upon them. Some people just needed time to adjust.

_Yeah, and some people will never change, _she thought. _Never. They'd rather be outsiders._

Well, maybe. But if they wanted to retain their marks or rebellion for the time being, so be it. They would come around eventually. Usagi was sure of it. She had faith in them. No, she wouldn't force –

One of them stepped forward slightly.

Usagi's heart leapt. A change of heart already! Excellent! And to show that she bore no hard feelings, she opened her arms as she had before, beckoning the lone dissident into a hug.

But the figure came no closer. Poised on the edge of darkness, it rolled its lips back into a growling snarl from which a hiss escaped. "Whore," said a male voice.

"Bitch," said another.

The welcoming hands dropped at once. Shocked, Usagi took a step backward – just in time to dodge a wad of flying spit. It missed her face by mere inches.

The things in the alleyway howled with laughter.

Usagi fled.

Skirts up around her knees, she took off down the street in a mad dash, her heels clacking out a frenzied rhythm on the cement. She didn't look back. She was afraid, though she didn't know why. It didn't make sense and she had no time to analyze it. _It's still here, _she thought as she huffed and puffed around a street corner. _It may have disappeared from the skies above, but now it's festering within the heart._

Or was that even an accurate statement? Maybe that was where Chaos lived, within the human heart. Rather than any Galaxy Cauldron, perhaps that was its _real_ home – brewing within the hearts and minds of the weak, the downtrodden, growing blacker and stronger with each hateful word uttered, with each spiteful thought.

A depressing consideration, one that slowed Usagi's steps.

Yet the moon was full above, its glow powerful and pure, and she found herself encouraged by it. Seeing it hanging there in the sky, so impossibly large, clamed her nerves considerably. So much so that she dropped her skirt with a sigh and continued on at a leisurely pace. The alleyway punks were swiftly forgotten.

And as she walked, she came upon a few interesting sights – the same interesting sight, actually, repeated over and over again: piles of clothes heaped atop piles of sand. Shirts atop jeans atop shoes – as though the wearer had simply melted away. This bizarre spectacle repeated itself every few feet or so, and after awhile, Usagi found herself walking by without taking note of it anymore. She didn't stop for a closer look. There was no need to. These were the droids. Or rather, what was left of them.

The once dreaded enforcers of Death Phantom's will, now reduced to lifeless street litter.

That, coupled with the guiding moon above, ignited a fire beneath Usagi's feet, and when she finally reached her destination, she had to force herself into a pause. This was the Delgado, after all, and if you couldn't even spare a _second _to appreciate fine Victorian architecture, you were pretty bad off.

Though much too high-scale to have an easily identifiable theme (Usagi had heard about "Love Motels" with heart-shaped bathtubs and vibrating beds where couples in "committed relationships" paid for the pleasure of enjoying a few hours in kitschy bliss), there _was _a common design element that permeated the hotel's façade - gold. It glistened along the slanted roof as a solid shingle of light, marred only by the occasional interruption of a chimneystack. It was present in the delicate scrollwork beneath each and every window. The powerful columns supporting the glass Tudor-styled archway seemed to have been chiseled from a single block of it, and even the diamond-shaped cut glass in the revolving door had been tinted a soft topaz to carry the motif into the lobby.

Except for a thin crack snaking its way from the foundation to the row of second story windows, the building itself appeared to be in fantastic shape. It almost looked … _preserved_. As if Death Phantom had spared this building for a particular reason. Perhaps he had intended it to act as his palace. It was certainly grand enough.

But that was only speculation and besides, she was wasting time. Mamoru was waiting for her.

Forcing her eyes away from the magnificent exterior of white stone and gold accent, Usagi set out down the flagstone path that would lead her to the luggage / guest drop-off circle. The fact that the hotel sat on a large patch of manicured green was another luxury that legitimated the outrageous room prices. Situating the building in the center of a dozen or so rolling acres of lush gardens helped create the illusion that the Delgado existed in a realm separate from that of the hustle and bustle of modern city life. And for the guest craving to experience the sights and sounds of Tokyo, wasn't the Delgado located in the very heart of the city?

Guarding the portal to the entrance hall were two cherub statues, gold of course, with trumpets raised to mouths. And as Usagi passed between their silent fanfare, it occurred to her that, despite her new royal title, she still felt like a high school senior – a mere girl attempting to gain entry to the dwelling place of the gods. And when she placed a hand against the glass of the revolving door and pushed, it felt to her as if she were barging in on some sacred territory. Millionaires and movie stars were synonymous with the Delgado in much the same way that the Greek pantheon had been interwoven into the history of Mount Olympus.

Well, trespassing or not, a new destination had been laid out before her. Room – she glanced back down at the key in her hand – 612. The twelfth room on the sixth floor. Or so she hoped. If Mamoru was waiting for her, she didn't want to waste any time running down hall after hall searching every door she came across.

Room 612, then. She would make a beeline for the nearest staircase (the citywide power outage having rendered all elevators inoperable, a fact she was very proud of herself for remembering), climb six flights, and search for the door plaque that matched the number on her key. 612. It couldn't be simpler.

But as she passed through the swooshing glass and stepped into the building proper, she found herself momentarily sidetracked by the overload of opulence and grandeur that was the main lobby. Even clouded in darkness, with nothing but the light of the moon illuminating the vastness of the room, it stopped Usagi cold in her tracks and caused her to forget (if only briefly) the all-important fact of Mamoru and his patient waiting for her in Room 612. To her little girl eyes, it looked like a hollowed-out volcano, a rising tower of balcony after balcony stern with kudzu ascending high to a rectangular golden skylight. The furniture looked like something out of an old money mansion, wingbacks interspersed among overstuffed couches spread amidst chase lounges – all clustered together before the huge cathedral-sized windows overlooking the traffic circle outside. All the easier for guests to spot their chauffeured limousines, Usagi supposed.

The carpet was red plush, interwoven with flowery gold designs, the chandelier hanging over the reception desk, a twinkling thing approximately the size of a baby killer whale. The light fixtures screwed into the walls were no doubt electric but had been made to resemble old-timey gaslights. The place was massive, decorated like a fairytale.

Usagi made her way through the moonlit lobby like a ghost bride looking for a reception that had long since been held. She ascended the grand staircase slowly, the rustle of her skirts very loud in the graveyard silence that had settled over the place. She counted every step, measured every footfall, and when she came to the sixth floor landing, she took off down the dark corridor beyond with nary a second thought. Rooms flew by on both sides. The wallpaper became a garbled blur of senseless color. By now the lavishness of the lobby had all but left Usagi's mind. She was a woman on a mission again. To find –

Room 612.

There it was. Right in front of her. The plaque set into the wall beside the double oak doors said so. It was also a suite, most likely. The double oak doors said so. As did the fact that it was at the end of the hall. More space that way. Lots more space.

_I'm nervous, _Usagi thought as she touched the swirl of gold that served as Room 612's doorknob. _Why am I so nervous? _There was no reason to be. No reason at all. But that didn't stop her hand from shaking as she inserted key into lock and pushed the door open.

She found herself in a small parlor of green marble flooring and shiny wood paneling. A dome of frosted glass hung just inside the threshold, dark now in somber repose. Beyond was an archway leading to another, larger room. She passed through the threshold with the sound of the uneasy hush ringing in her ears. All was quiet, all was still.

Fires crackled in the distance.

Was this the right room? Had she misread the room plaque? Where was Mamoru?

No, she hadn't made a mistake. This was the place. Usagi was certain of it.

_Okay, then where is he? Hiding behind a door waiting to jump out and yell "Boo"?_

Well, maybe not that, but there were several rooms _within_ Room 612 left to explore. Maybe he had retired to the sitting room.

Nope. Empty. Yet Usagi had to take a moment to appreciate the décor. Thick burgundy carpeting, heavy claw-footed furniture arranged in front of the huge oak cabinet (the one hiding the flat-screened plasma, Usagi had no doubt), oil lamps, the exquisitely framed portraits – all expertly placed to achieve maximum usage in the large oval-shaped space.

Beautiful, but no Mamoru.

So she moved on, taking the next open doorway.

Another sitting room. Empty.

So she moved on, finding herself next in a kitchen that would've caused her mother's mouth to water with the sheer number of pots and pans hanging over the center island. But as the room was empty and Usagi did not hold claim to the art of food preparation besides, she moved on yet again.

Next was the bathroom, all marble and gold with a sunken tub and separate shower. Empty. After that came the library, or what Usagi assumed to be the library judging by the shelves lined with books and the absence of anything else in the room. At first glance it seemed this last location would be a good candidate for Mamoru's hiding spot (the man loved to read, a pastime Usagi was not all _too_ unfamiliar with), but a swift peek into the room proved such hope to be unwarranted. For it too was empty.

Maybe Artemis had given her the wrong key?

Possible, and, by the way things were shaping up, looking more and more likely. But there was still one more room to explore – the one behind the closed door at the end of this new hall.

The bedroom. She knew it before she even opened the door. And it was.

Compared to the other rooms of the suite, this one appeared much smaller. Instead of heavy oak paneling found in the sitting room and library, the walls here were white with gold crown moldings. And in lieu of stern-faced, white-haired aristocrats looking down from their framed portraits, the paintings here were all watercolors, dreamy interpretations of grassy meadows and gurgling ponds. By far, the largest thing in the room was the bed, a huge brass sleigh of a thing positioned against the far wall. A transparent canopy hung over it, secured to the wall behind with ornamental tacks and to the ceiling above in a bundled knot. There were pillows by the thousand, it seemed, each sporting the same gold stitch embroidery bearing the letters HD – Hotel Delgado.

And there was something else resting atop the coverlet, two roses with pedals so slick and red it looked as though someone had plucked them out of one of the watercolor paintings hanging on the wall. Their scent filled the room and Usagi greedily inhaled it as she bent forward and took one.

Somebody had taken time to cut the briars off, leaving only a single leaf protruding from the green stem. The soft pedals (so bright and glossy they looked like plastic) were only halfway open in a partial bloom.

Gently stroking the flower's head, Usagi brought the rose up to her nose and sniffed.

_Ahh, _she thought. _Like a garden in springtime. _

She turned then, the rose still tickling her upper lip, and found herself staring out through an open balcony window onto the dark city below. Except it wasn't _all_ dark, of course. There were some spots of color here and there – there were the orange flames licking up the last of the combustible debris, the black smoke rising to any even blacker sky in column-esque plumes, and the Crystal Palace, all blue and silver, looking like an elaborate pedestal for the moon that hovered above.

It dominated the landscape with both its size and beauty. Its cluster of towers, the elegant fluidity of its organic construction … it was a perfect jewel, a gleaming mountain, the source of inspiration around which the city would be rebuilt.

"What a view, eh?"

Usagi nodded without turning around. "But it's strange."

"What is?"

She shrugged. "Is this the future? The past? The present? What?"

A soft chuckle marked the advance of footsteps from behind. "I don't know about you," the voice said, "but I'd prefer to think of it as a new beginning."

A new beginning. Yes. A chance to shape a new destiny, to right old wrongs.

Leaving the Crystal Palace at her back, Usagi faced Mamoru. He had been in the room the entire time, watching her without saying a word. Now she took note of his lavender cloak folded neatly across the foot of the bed and his staff propped up in the corner. Now she saw all things clearly.

"You did it, you know," he said as he took her elbows and pulled her close. He nodded in the balcony's direction.

Now it was Usagi's turn to chuckle. "Actually you couldn't be more wrong. We all did it. You, me, the girls, the people of this city." She sighed. The rose's aroma had faded to a barely noticeable tickle of the nostrils. "We're only as strong as the people around us."

Mamoru smiled, nodded, and pulled back. Those blue eyes of his danced mischievously inside his mask's frames. "My apologies, Your Highness." And then, to push that final button: "Neo Queen Serenity."

The name stuck her like a pin pricking the flesh. She groaned. "I don't think I'll _ever _get used to that." As an afterthought, she reached up with her free hand and felt for the crown atop her head. Still there. She had already gotten used to its weight.

Stepping forward, Mamoru took the tiara in his hands, brought it to his chest, then turned it around for Usagi to see. She waved it away, laughing.

"Well, you've got a thousand years to get used to it," he said as he placed the tiny crown atop the small fireplace mantle. It settled there with a glassy _clink._ When he turned back to her, she saw that his face had grown serious. "So I guess you're wondering why I called you here."

Actually, she wasn't. The thought hadn't so much as crossed her mind. Mamoru had called, she had answered. Like always. The reason wasn't important. And in Usagi's opinion, that was the very definition of love – trusting entirely in the strength and word of another person, without knowing why or how or any of those other essential questions. But since the issue of motivation had now been raised, she could only crinkle up her brow and shoot off a guess.

"You wanted to talk with me?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Confused, Usagi opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but was silenced by the kiss that came just after. It landed upon her lips light as a feather – soft, almost shy at first, then growing deeper and more rhythmic. Gloved hands closed around her neck, reeling her in even closer. And she responded in kind by latching hers onto Mamoru's shoulders, drawing him nearer until their bodies were pressed hard, almost painfully against each other.

They kissed as if it were the first time for either of them – a hungry, frantic devouring of the lips. Their breathing was ragged, their appetite for one another insatiable. They allowed themselves only the briefest of breaks, breaking the seal they had formed only when in dire need of oxygen. When this happened, they simply tilted back in unison, gulped the rosy-scented air, and refashioned the lock. Keeping their eyes closed, they savored the moment with a feverish hysteria, touching, grabbing, holding – all while keeping the kiss.

More than a few times, Usagi felt Mamoru's tongue against her teeth, pressing against the roof of her mouth – and while it wasn't something she usually enjoyed, she reciprocated the action, completely engulfed within the moment. For the battle had been won, and true to his word, Mamoru was giving her what she had asked for. A physical expression of his love. And yet … and yet, even this did not fully satisfy her. She wanted more, something deeper still, something much more than a mere touching of the lips. She wanted to join her soul with his, to become one with him. To love him in a new way.

The thought must have occurred to Mamoru as well, for she soon felt his fingers trailing a path down the skin of her exposed back. Tickling like feathers, they stopped at the knot of her bow, the large one that resembled a butterfly's wings, and began to pick at it. The sound of the fabric unraveling was enough to give Usagi pause. She halted in her kiss, the sound of her heartbeat now an exploding firework pounding in her ears. Suddenly unsure, she lowered her head and cleared her throat. A part of her wanted him to slow down if not stop completely, but she soon discovered that her fingers had taken on a life of their own. They were at his neck, undoing the bowtie there.

With the bow of her gown now a discarded ribbon on the floor, Mamoru's fingers ventured upward and began to tenderly peel the gown itself down from her shoulders. And she, helpless to do anything else, found herself fiddling with the buttons of his vest. His kiss had traveled to the hollow of her neck as his hands continued to circle her body in a restless motion.

Their hands clawed at each other, unheedful of the minds that usually governed them, and when they finally _did_ stop their work, Mamoru and Usagi found themselves standing amid a pile of wrinkled garments. Priceless jewelry lay in clumps around the bedposts, Usagi's gown was a white snakeskin draped over the padded couch at the foot of the bed, and Mamoru's gloves had somehow found their way beside the forgotten tiara atop the fireplace mantle. Each had stripped the other birth-naked, leaving no further work for their fingers to accomplish.

At first, neither of them uttered a word. They simply stood there, inches apart, looking somewhat stunned – as if they were just now coming back into themselves. Once that initial shock wore off, however, they felt free to move their eyes over the form of the other, taking into account things previously left to the imagination.

To Usagi's eyes, Mamoru's unclothed form resembled one of those classic Greek nude sculptures she and Naru had giggled over in art class together - broad shoulders, narrow hips, powerful limbs. He was a slim man, by no means a hunk in the traditional sense of the word, but he _was_ strong, as evident by the faint outline of muscles ringing his chest and his lower abdomen.

For his part, Mamoru had always thought Usagi beautiful, but now, with the secrets of her female anatomy fully revealed, he saw that his suspicions had been well founded. Her angel's face, her slender neck. He took it all in with the eye of a man admiring a fine work of art - her full breasts capped off by nipples that were pink islands against a white ocean, her flat stomach, the shallow indention of her navel, the downy sprinkle of silver hair across the lower part of her pelvis. She was beautiful, a goddess freshly birthed from the sea.

"Usa," he whispered thickly as he drew her close. And while the kissing might have gone into intermission, those hands of his started up again almost immediately. Shivering against Mamoru's chest, she felt them working their way down her spine, eventually tracing the contour of her buttocks.

"Usa." Again. A wavering plea.

She pulled away. Her face felt hot, as did her upper chest. She was blushing. She felt dizzy. Her heartbeat. Pounding away in her ears, exploding within her. Her legs. Weak. Quivering. Her stomach. Full of butterflies. A break. She needed a break. Because she felt faint.

"Mamo-chan."

"Hmm?" A vibration of sound against her neck.

Furiously, she wracked her brain trying to come up with something to delay the moment. All she needed was a moment. Just a second to figure out what she planned to do next. Her eyes scanned the room, searching desperately for something to divert Mamoru's attention.

Ah! There.

"Um, you might want to close that window," she said, pulling away slightly. Her voice sounded unnaturally shaky, even to her own ears, but at least she could talk. "I mean, unless you want to give the whole city a show."

Mamoru laughed. It sounded very much like a boy's giggle. "Good idea." And kissing her once more on the cheek, he turned and started for the balcony from which she had spotted the Crystal Palace. There was something sad about watching him go, this naked man walking away from her, his backside totally bare. _He_ wasn't nervous or having second thoughts. _He _wasn't awkward when it came to bodily expressions of love. Usagi only hoped he wouldn't be too mad at her when she told him she didn't think she could go through with it. Maybe she would tell him she had a headache. Actually, she _was_ starting to get one, so it wouldn't be lying exactly. This would've been their first time, after all. Well, _her_ first time, anyway. For all she knew, Mamoru was experienced. Wasn't he a man? Everyone knew men's lives revolved around one thing and one thing only.

Their first time. Usagi shook her head, unable to believe it. There had been other chances, of course, other opportunities – but Chibiusa had always gotten in the way, popping up at the most inopportune times. Yep, this could've been old hat by now if it hadn't been for that little spore.

Then came the sound of a heavy curtain drawing closed and Usagi's thoughts broke off like a bundle of twigs snapping. She kept her vision low, tried to steady her breathing, but the thoughts tumbling inside her mind were manic.

_When was the last time I shaved? Oh geez, if I would've known this would be _the night, _I would've tidied up a bit first. Maybe taken the time to, I dunno, shave my legs?!_

Footsteps now. Approaching her.

Biting down hard on her lip, Usagi crossed both hands over her … lower area in a way she prayed looked nonchalant. He had already seen her, true, but she had no desire to suffer through another head-to-toe body scan feeling the way she was.

"Usa?"

She glanced up and saw him walking toward her, a mark of concern wrinkled across his forehead. Nope, _he_ wasn't ashamed of his nakedness. His hands hung at his sides. His penis flopped between his legs with each forward step.

Usagi spun away. Tears sizzled in her eyes. What was her problem? Why was she being so uptight?

Hands touched her shoulder, then moved down her arms before finally cupping her breasts from behind. She could feel his breath against the nape of her neck. Cool. Even.

"I'm suddenly very nervous and don't know why," she admitted.

"Me, too."

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she turned to face him. His mouth trembled in a tiny smile. "Yeah. See?" He took hold of one of her wrists then and pulled the arm attached to it up. The other Usagi kept in place, covering herself.

He placed the flat palm against his chest. The heart beneath was racing.

"Look," he said. "I don't…" He paused, brought the hand up to his face and smoothed it against his cheek. When next he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "I love you, Usa. Probably more than you'll ever know. And … no matter what we do or don't do tonight, I just want to be near you. That's all."

A final touch of his lips against her fingers and he dropped the hand, taking a step back, perhaps planning to dress.

Usagi grabbed his wrist. "Mamo-chan?"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

She dropped the other hand, the one she had been using as a covering, and brought both up around her lover's neck. She pulled him close into a hug. "I believe the bed is _this_ way."

So they fell backward upon the crisp sheets. Bedsprings groaned, pillows were flung to the floor, and Usagi readied herself for this new expression of love, putting aside all thoughts of possible discomfort or potential awkwardness. It did hurt, but only at first, and any initial discomfort was soon forgotten by the pleasure that came afterward. They took things slow, encouraging one another, guiding hands with kisses. The love they made was sweet and tender, and for the next two and a half hours, they were united in one body, one soul.

And when they had finished, with the night turning blue outside, they pulled the covers up and closed their eyes, side by side, hands enfolded. Sleep would've come next, and Usagi was ready for it, but when Mamoru called her name shortly thereafter, she immediately opened her eyes and reached out for him.

"I'm right here, love," she said as she took his head and cradled it against her bosom. His hair felt wet with sweat, but his body was shivering – as though he were cold.

He snuggled against her chest and breathed in a forced breath. "I …" Swallowing, he raised his head and stared his blue eyes into hers. They peered out behind a veil of tousled black bangs, still moist with unshed tears. "I want to ask you something."

Yes, and she knew what it would be. Still, she wanted to hear it from his mouth. So, bracing herself for the moment, she hunkered down further into the sheets, tried to keep the smile from her mouth, and gazed upon the light flashing off that one piece of jewelry she'd forgotten to take off.


	33. Chapter 26 Part V Final

Chapter 26 (part 5)

She awoke later to the smell of pancakes and the sound of birds chirping merrily outside, sure indicators that the weekend had begun. Pancakes were strictly a Sunday breakfast item, and the only time she ever noticed early morning sounds such as the singing of birds were those rare occasions when she wasn't rushing to school because of oversleeping. And the only day of the week she didn't rush to school happened to be Sundays, mainly due to the fact that there _was_ no school on that most blessed day.

A curious phenomenon indeed.

Well, good. It being Sunday meant that she could sleep in a while longer – which was something she fully planned on doing. Anything to savor that incredible dream a while longer. And who knew? The dream was still fresh in her mind, making re-entry into its world a very possible thing indeed.

Yawing, she steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, resolute that the next time she opened them, it would be on the other side of the waking world. The birds on her windowsill were providing a lullaby to ease the journey, and the slanting sun made for a warm blanket.

"Usagi?"

_Call me Usa, _she thought wistfully, randomly. _Take me in your arms, hold me tight and promise me we'll be together always._

"Usagi? Sweetie?"

Very nearly there by now, the girl beneath the covers wrinkled her brow and groped her pillow in a way that suggested she was being forcibly pried away from something far greater than anything the ordinary world had to offer.

_Don't. Please don't. Let me go back. If only for a few seconds. Mercy. Have mercy._

But it was too late. That magical place had already shut its gates, barring any further entry, at least for today. Besides, Ikuko-Mama was waiting for her. Usagi knew this the same way she had known it was Sunday without having to be told. With that, it had been a combination of birdsong and pancakes that had clued her off. With this, it was Ikuko-Mama's scent, that aroma that swirled in a sweet fog around her and lingered long after she had left a room. Not a perfume exactly, but rather the smell of baked goodies and hand sanitizer.

"Usagi? Time to wake up."

Blinking against the golden sunlight, Usagi pulled herself up to a sitting position, arching her back as she did so. Her spine popped thrice in disapproval.

"Breakfast has been on the table for five minutes," Ikuko-Mama said, though not unkindly.

Usagi yawned. "I'm sorry. I was having a dream."

_Tsking _a sound of sympathy, Ikuko-Mama reached out and placed a hand across her daughter's forehead as if checking for a fever. "Poor thing. Better not tell it before breakfast, though, or it'll come true."

"Oh, it was a good dream!" Usagi countered, suddenly fully awake. "Most of it, anyway."

The urgency of breakfast now forgotten, Ikuko-Mama folded her hands across her chest and sat down at the foot of the bed. "Well, in that case, let's hear it."

Grateful to share all the things she had experienced while asleep, Usagi brought knees up to her chin and thought about how best to begin. After a moment of smiling contemplation, she said: "Well, for starters, I was a princess _and_ a superhero."

Ikuko-Mama whistled. "A princess _and_ a superhero? Goodness!"

"Yep, and I had this magic crystal and all the bad guys wanted it. They would start all these terrible fights over it but I never gave it to them. Never. Sometimes it was scary, but I managed to stay strong 'cause I had all my friends around me." Then, as if that statement warranted an explanation: "They were superheroes too."

"Wow."

Usagi nodded.

"Now, you said you were a princess, right?"

Again, Usagi nodded.

Ikuko-Mama smiled. "So I guess you had your very own prince, huh?"

Usagi shrugged in an effort to bypass _that _particularline of questioning, but the blush that had suddenly appeared on her face spoke for itself.

"Aha!" Ikuko-Mama laughed. "I suspected as much!" Grinning ear to ear, she shot forward and assaulted her daughter with tickles, starting first under the arms, then moving down toward the feet where the sensation would be felt most. Usagi screamed in mock protest, squirming and slapping, but not really resisting. There _had_ been a prince, actually – a handsome blue-eyed one with a devil's grin and the touch of an angel – but that part of the dream she preferred to keep to herself.

With a flip of hair, Ikuko-Mama righted herself and took Usagi's hand. "So you had this magic crystal…"

Usagi giggled. "Yeah, and then-"

"-and then you, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion all boarded the magic school bus for Narnia, am I right?"

Reacting in tandem, mother and daughter swirled toward the doorway, duplicate expressions of annoyance on their faces.

_"Shingo!!"_

He shrugged, frowning as if to say, _Hey, lay off, would ya? _then jabbed a thumb toward the downstairs. "Dad sent me up to see what's taking you guys so long." He snickered. "I had no idea I was interrupting fantasy fairyland time."

Ikuko-Mama sighed, patted her daughter on the check and arose. "Tell your father I'll be right down." And once Shingo had left to relay the message, she turned to Usagi, winking, and said: "Why don't you rest a little while longer? You might catch up to your prince yet."

It was then that Usagi noticed how pretty her mother looked. Even wearing that ever-present apron of hers, hair up in a home perm, there was a glow about her – a halo, maybe, one that ringed her face and erased wrinkles.

"Mom?"

She paused at the door. "Hmm?"

"I love you."

The woman at the door smiled. "I love you too."

Then she was gone, vanished behind a closed door.

For a long while, Usagi continued to stare at the door as if she expected her mother to come rushing back in to hear more of the story. But the door remained closed and when it became clear that she wasn't coming back, Usagi slumped backward onto the pillows, sighing.

What a dream. What a crazy, crazy dream. Silver Crystals and Sailor Soldiers.

Still, it was easy to see where she had gotten some of that stuff from. The talking cat, for instance. She must've molded the one in her dream off her old cat Luna – the one Kenji-Papa had brought home from the pound as a Christmas gift a few years back. Ah, yes. Good ol' Luna, so named because of that bald spot on her forehead, the one that had kinda sorta looked like a crescent moon. What a good pet she had been. A little noisy, but lovable all the same. Of course, in real life she had been just a cat, just an ordinary milk-drinking, mouse-chasing house cat.

_It'd be so cool if animals _could_ talk, _Usagi thought dreamily. _I bet they'd have all kinds of neat stuff to say._

Oh, and that stuff about Sailor Soldiers? Easily explained. Naru had taken her to see the new Sailor V movie the night before: _Codename Sailor V and the Death Specter_. That, coupled with the five chocolate bars she had scarfed down in the theatre … well, it wasn't difficult to see why her sleeping mind had made all those weird connections.

And yet …. it was sad. Luna had died six years ago after being attacked by the neighbor's dog (a grisly event Usagi would never forget), and everybody new that Sailor V was just a manga comic strip, portrayed in the flesh by a blonde actress with several other movie roles to her credit. She wasn't real.

None of it had been.

It hit her all at once, that the friendships she had made in the dream were the products _of_ a dream, and that her prince was merely the product of her mind assimilating a dozen different fairytales together.

The truth of the matter felt like a cinderblock on her heart, altering reality with a sweeping coldness. The birds on the windowsill had stopped singing, and when Usagi checked, she saw that they weren't even there anymore. A cloud had rolled over the sun, transforming the few scant rays left into sickly yellow strips of half-light.

A dream. All of it.

Lips trembling, Usagi wiped her running eyes along the edge of her bedspread. Now that the truth was out, so to speak, she felt terrible. She felt - in a word - duped. As if God Himself had orchestrated the dream as a fantastic joke at her expense.

How could she go on, knowing that the friends she had made, the things she had seen were all illusions of a dreaming mind? It had felt so real, though, all of it. So incredibly real – from the scenery, to the emotions she'd felt, to the kiss of her prince.

But it _hadn't_ been real. Not one thing of it, and the sheer weight of that revelation was like an anchor around her neck.

_I wish I never dreamed it, _she thought through the barrage of tears that followed. _It would've been better that way. At least then I never would've known what I was missing._

And she was still crying later as the sun darkened completely and the sound of thunder rattled the house.

…

The caress of a finger against her cheek, the warmth of lazy morning sunshine, the kiss of her prince – these were the things that ushered her awake some time later. Her journey back to consciousness was a gradual one, however, characterized first by the awareness of starched bed linens against her skin and the presence of another hovering close by.

Sighing away the last fragments of sleep, Usagi opened her eyes to find Mamoru gazing down at her with a sly grin playing across the corners of his mouth. Sunlight glared across his bare back, transforming the man into a statue of bronze.

"Good morning," he said, tracing his right hand over the side of her face. With the other he combed out her hair, which ran across her side of the bed to the floor in silver tangles.

"Good morning, Mamo-chan," she replied as she pulled the covers to a higher position. She frowned. "Seems like I was watching a long, long dream."

Sheets rustled and bedsprings whined as Mamoru crawled to a position atop her. He had wiggled partly out of his silken cocoon (affording Usagi an unobstructed view of his undraped bottom) but he made no move to remedy the situation, which was something Usagi didn't mind in the least.

"What kind of dream?" he asked with a smile.

A good question, that. For when she tried to remember, she found she couldn't. It had been a sad dream, at any rate. One that had brought tears to her eyes. Really, it had been more like a dream within a dream. Or the answer to an unasked prayer.

After puzzling about it for several seconds, Usagi merely shrugged. "I forgot." She reached forward again, meaning to take Mamoru's face in her hands, but stopped. Somebody had pulled all the curtains aside from every window in the room, flooding the chamber with the bright light of a newly risen sun. The skies outside were crayon blue - the seas on which fluffy cotton ball clouds sailed. And beneath that canopy sat the Crystal Palace, a hazy mirage of limpid spires framed by the orange sun.

It looked even more beautiful in the daylight. And it was real. Most definitely _not_ a dream.

"Mano-chan?"

He raised an eyebrow.

Smiling, she took him in her arms and pulled him close. Their heads knocked together hollowly. "Can you say it again?"

He sighed and closed his eyes wearily. "I said it fifty times last night."

Still smiling that patented impossible-to-resist smile, she held up a finger as an indicator of her sincerity. "Just once more."

"Last time," Mamoru warned.

She nodded.

Then he was on her, skin on skin, his hands on her throat, his toes tickling hers.

"Let's get married, Usa."

…

The month that followed flew by as a swirling avalanche of foreign dignitary meet-and-greets, private consultations, and formal dinners. By the end of that first week after Death Phantom's assault on Tokyo, the whole world knew the name Usagi Tsukino and the secret she had carried since the 8th grade. From the lowliest peasant to the richest oil tycoon, from Japan to South America, the name on everyone's lips, the one thing lighting up the Internet chat rooms, was Usagi Tsukino – this girl who had emerged from nowhere to become the sovereign Queen of the Earth. It was, as many papers had labeled it, the story of the millennium. And while Usagi didn't know if she agreed with _that_, she had to admit her story had certainly captured the world's attention. She herself didn't understand the public's sudden fascination with everything "Usagi", but guessed most of it had to do with the novelty of the whole situation. _Time _magazine, in its special edition proclaiming Neo-Queen Serenity "Person of the Millennium", had described her ascension to power as a true-life Cinderella story, a wondrous paradox of fairytale and reality, of authentic magic and political intrigue.

The public adored her, wanted to know everything about her – everything from the brand of hand soap she used, to the kind of car she drove, to her prediction on who would win that year's Super Bowl. And though she found the media scrutiny chronicling her every step rather ridiculous, she took it upon herself to play along. She approved and participated in every interview request, no matter who was doing the reporting or what larger entity they represented. She also made a special effort to respond personally to every letter addressed to her. Most happened to be from children, as evident by sloppy penmanship scrawled across the page in crayon or marker. These letters, so sincere and heartfelt with their childish congratulations and earnest pleas for help, moved her in such a way that she felt compelled to respond back to each and every one. In writing back, she often found herself staying up 'till the wee hours of the morning in one hotel room or another, painstakingly translating her response in Japanese back into the letter's original language. This she accomplished with the help of an online translation program. It was hard work keeping track of every little note with her name scribbled across the top, but she didn't mind. After the first barrage of fan mail, she had made up her mind that a form letter with her name literally stamped to the bottom wasn't going to cut it.

She didn't mind, not in the least, but attending to these matters _did_ take up a great deal of time.

So much so that when the day of her wedding finally came, she found herself taken completely off guard. Gallivanting all over the world had left very little time for any sort of preparations to be made, and in the end, Usagi found herself left with no other option but to hand the wedding reigns off to other, more capable hands. This lack of control over the biggest day in her life had been a great source of anxiety for her (as she imagined it would be for any bride). Now, however, hunkered down inside the vestibule of Tokyo's last remaining church, she saw that she needn't have worried herself. What she had seen of the decorations had taken her breath away.

And her dress! Haute couture, and constructed of the purest, whitest silk and taffeta, Usagi had known the instant she'd seen it that it was _her_ dress. It had been made especially for her by some famous Parisian fashion designer whose name she couldn't quite remember at the moment. Which was really a shame since the gown could very well be considered a piece of art in its own right. Fresh roses (white ones, of course) trimmed the bodice, the neckline, the puffy sleeves. Flowers had also been sewn into her hair, which was bound up in quadruple odango. These held the veil in place, all 20 feet of it – which was long, but not quite as long as the 40-foot train attached to the dress itself. Her earrings (pearl dangles) and necklace (pearls again, wound thrice around her neck) had been lent to her by another fashion house – and though they had given up the jewelry as a gift, Usagi had every intention of returning it all after the reception.

Yes, everything had turned out beautifully. The only thing Usagi had been adamant about was that the wedding be held in Tokyo. Other locations had been suggested, from the palace of Versailles, to the Sydney Opera House, to America's Grand Canyon. It seemed every country on earth wanted to host the event and would stop at nothing until theirs was the location chosen. But Usagi had graciously declined every offer with thanks. Tokyo was her home, the place from which she drew strength. No other location, however grand, would do.

The city was still mostly in ruins, but the construction cranes dotting the landscape were positive signs pointing toward new growth. New immigrants were arriving daily and by the hundreds, all flocking to the Crystal Palace, which Usagi had established as a permanent home for the temporarily homeless. These new residents, impressed by the graceful beauty of the Palace and the profound kindness of its Queen, had thus dubbed the city "Crystal Tokyo" – a title that, at this point, was more of a nickname than anything else. But Usagi knew it was only a matter of time.

Just a matter of time.

Speaking of which…

"What time is it?"

Shingo, dressed to the nines in tuxedo and diamond cufflinks, consulted the pocket watch pinned to his vest. Besides the two of them, the small entrance chamber was empty – a stark contrast to the hoards of paparazzi lying in wait just outside.

"Noon."

Sighing nervously, Usagi switched the white rose bouquet from left hand to right. "It was supposed to start at noon, wasn't it? Wasn't that what we decided?"

Shingo rolled his eyes. "You're freaking. Just relax, for crying out loud." Then he smiled and shot his sister a coy side-grin. "To be honest, I'd be _much_ more concerned about walking down the aisle without tripping if I were you."

He'd meant it as another one of his brotherly jabs and Usagi took it as such, reacting just the way she always had in these situations – with sisterly annoyance.

"Shingo, do me a favor and shut your face, okay? I don't need this right now."

He shrugged. "I'm just saying. That's a _lot_ of fabric you're wearing. It'd be _tragic_ if you fell flat on your face on your wedding day. Right in front of everybody?" Whistling, he looked down to adjust his tie, smirking all the wider. "I mean, can you imagine? What would your guests _think_?"

Usagi narrowed her eyes, popped her hip and frowned. "Once again, may I remind you that I am your Queen and that you exist only as an extension of my continued mercy? All it would take is one word from me and I could have you exiled into the nearest black hole."

"So you keep reminding me."

The vestibule was silent then – silent save for the occasional muffled cough from the wedding guests inside and the sporadic snap of cameras outside. The time for jokes had ended, it seemed.

Usagi shifted on her feet.

The doors in front of her remained closed.

Mamoru was on the other side, and she felt certain that he was as anxious to see her as she was to see him. When she had rolled up to the church in that … ostentatiousgolden couch (drawn by eight white horses), she'd been in a nervous sweat and had, in fact, wished for just another day to prepare for the experience. But now, standing at Shingo's side waiting for the chapel doors to open, she found she just wanted to get the blasted thing over with. They had waited far too long already. A thousand lifetimes, in fact.

"You really are very pretty. Mom and Dad would be proud."

The words sneaked by Usagi at first, but when they _did_ register (a full six seconds later), she snapped her head back in Shingo's direction so suddenly she nearly lost one of the ornamental roses pinned into her hair. She found him staring blankly ahead at the doors, his lower jaw locked tight as if the mere act of giving a compliment to his sister had resulted in a foul aftertaste.

This struck her as immensely funny but when she opened her mouth to comment, there came the tremendous blare of an organ staring up, the signal for everyone to assume their places.

Taken off guard, Usagi let loose with a startled cry as she jumped back into position. The nerves were back. _Just take it slow, _she told herself. _One foot in front of the other. Baby steps. And for the love of all things sacred, don't trip!_

"Ready?"

Nodding in spite of her thrashing heart, Usagi linked her arm through Shingo's and the two of them proceeded onward through the newly opened doors, brother escorting sister. They processed forward to violin accompaniment; the harsh organ having gave way to the sweeter sound of Michiru strumming bow against strings. The tune was a unique composition of hers created just for the occasion, one that combined the traditional rhythms of a wedding march with the more subdued tempos of a classical piece. To Usagi's ears, it sounded almost harp-like, like the peaceful whispers of a dozen angels.

Walking up the pedal-strewn center aisle, Usagi _heard_ Michiru but could not spot her. And really wasn't looking, for the loveliness of the interior cathedral had wholly captured her attention, almost to the point of total distraction. Yellow cymbidiums had been strung along the ceiling in loose garlands, providing warm yellow accents against the dark wooden arches. Silver lampposts strewn with the same flower stood at even-spaced intervals along the pews, lighting the bride's way forward via flickering flames behind glass panes. The natural light beaming through the stained-glass windows, with their depictions of the life and times of Jesus Christ, was prismatic, colored every shade of the rainbow. This, Usagi thought, was perhaps the most beautiful decoration of all – this vibrant fresco of lighted color shining across the faces of her many guests.

They had stood with the sounding of the organ and now watched silently, smiling, as their new Queen walked between them on her way to be joined with their King. They filled every seat from the front to the back, amounting to little more than a sea of flamboyant hats and suited shoulders.

When composing the guest list, Usagi had found herself left with a strange mishmash of political bigwigs intermingled amongst old friends - something she now saw in a new light as she continued onward toward the front of the church. Standing just there was the President of the United States along with the rest of the First Family, all dressed in their Sunday finest and wearing what appeared to be genuine expressions of happiness on their faces. Tacked to the President's lapel was a crescent moon pin, an outward symbol of the alliance he planned on building with the Silver Millennium. Standing next to _him_ was the Queen of England herself, looking lovely in a lime green frock and matching bonnet. She winked as Usagi passed by, a subtle acknowledgment of that time a month ago during their initial meet-and-greet when Usagi had tripped while trying to perform the customary courtesy. And a few pews up from _her, _Usagi spotted a turbaned individual she thought she recognized as the emir of Dubai.

The famous faces in the audience did not faze her in the slightest. What would've seemed like a dream a month ago had since taken on the comfortable rhythm of the commonplace. Reality had finally set in (probably in no small thanks to the Usagi Tsukino commemorative plate she had seen being advertised on television – trimmed with 22-karat gold, a stirring tribute to Earth's Queen, order now! … plate stand not included).

The title of Neo-Queen Serenity was no longer one she shied away from. Indeed, perched atop her head, among the floral wreath of white roses, was her crown of office.

Walking ever onward, Usagi took note of the seating. Important though the Presidents and Prime Ministers and visiting royalty might have been to the outside world, they were nevertheless relegated to the pews furthest from the altar. Seated in the positions of honor were the commoners, the unwashed public, the old and cherished friends. She saw Naru and Gurio, both dressed to impress, she in a flowing yellow summer dress, he in a tuxedo of blue ruffles. She saw Unazuki and nearly cried when she blew her a kiss and twittered her fingers in a wave. She saw everyone who had ever meant anything to her. Old friends and new. They had all gathered here in this place under the banner of love and matrimony.

Another step and Usagi found herself mere feet away from the end of the aisle. Realizing this, she turned her attention forward and found herself in tears as she gazed upon her Prince, her King, her soul mate eternal.

She had seem him wearing the battle armor of a Prince prepared for war, had seen him wearing cape and mask and top hat as the phantom hero Tuxedo Mask, had seen him wearing nothing at all, but it was this version of Mamoru that struck her dumb.

It was a wedding, and his attire proved it. Unlike the purple tuxedo he wore during his rounds as King, the one Usagi was looking at now was deepest black, complete with tails. Green crystal ornamentation, made to resemble the needles of a budding pine, twinkled merrily along the edges of the suit, trailing from collar to tail. Pinned over his left breast were three medals, the Victoria Cross, the French _Légion_d'honneur_, and a unique version of the Congressional Medal of Honor. All three were badges of valor that had been presented to Mamoru along with the rest of the Sailor Soldiers a month ago. Smaller copies, ones easily attached to the average-sized collar, had been awarded to Luna and Artemis. Usagi remembered being given a set as well, but hadn't come across them in the time since and considered them now lost forever.

But enough of that. The music had stopped, Michiru had reassumed her place among the rest of the wedding party, and Shingo was now giving her away.

The wedding party. Chuckling softly to herself, Usagi shook her head and took another look. It looked so terribly unbalanced, what with the bride and her _eight_ maids of honor juxtaposed with Mamoru's sole groomsman. Poor Asanuma. He looked so bewildered standing there, as if Mamoru had spirited him off to the church in the midst of an afternoon nap. But as it had been Mamoru doing the kidnapping, Asanuma had allowed himself to be taken without complaint. It was no secret that the boy admired him, and had since his days as the King's underclassman. His starry-eyed respect had all the makings of an unrequited man-crush, which was all the more hilarious as neither he nor Mamoru seemed to be aware of it.

"Who gives this woman to be presented to this man?"

"I do."

And then there were her girls, her (count them) eight maids of honor. Standing to Usagi's left, they had arranged themselves in order of height, with Haruka bringing up the rear and Hotaru poised closest to the altar railing. Each carried with her a different bouquet; each wore a different gown of matching ivory.

Having them all together again was enough to bring a fresh tear to Usagi's eye. For in the days since _that night_, each girl had gone her separate way. It had taken a lot of convincing on Usagi's part, but eventually she had succeeded in setting them free from the bondage of duty. _I want you guys to be happy, _she had told them. _I want you to follow your dreams and make them into reality. You've given me so much, the gift of your friendship, your power in battles … you've given me so much. It's only right that I should repay your kindness._

It had been difficult to get them to understand at first, but Usagi had finally gotten them to see things her way after forcing them to sign a new pact under her direct royal order. The sole requirement of this new concord? To follow dreams, however distant.

And follow them they had.

Haruka and Michiru had left for parts unknown, their professional lives as motocross racer and artist temporarily put on hold as they worked toward a new understanding in their relationship.

Setsuna had purchased an empty lot within the leveled Shibuya district with hopes of eventually transforming the desolate spot of land into a clothing boutique which she hoped to fill someday with her own designs. This news had struck Usagi as particularly interesting, as she had no idea Setsuna enjoyed fashion. But then, wasn't that the whole point of this little exercise?

Following Setsuna's example, Makoto had also become a landowner, with aspirations toward becoming the head chef of her own restaurant. Intimate bakery or five-star dining establishment, she hadn't quite decided. And if the tabloids were to be believed, her personal life had also undergone a change of sorts with Asanuma's role in relation to Makoto going from friend to "something more". In this case, Usagi hoped the rumors were true. Motoki's death had hit her especially hard, but as the old saying went, you couldn't grieve forever. And she _had_ been caught smiling more and more these days.

Hmm… Usagi made a mental note: _Mako-chan and Asanuma. Don't let up. _She would force them together if need be.

Moving down the line, she spotted Ami next, home from England. Unlike the other girls, the studious Ami had decided to continue with her education by enrolling at Cambridge University with the ultimate goal of completing her doctoral residency elsewhere. The choice of Cambridge as her college of choice seemed to have some special meaning to her, as many times during the application process, she had made statements alluding to the fact that she was "coming full circle." Whatever that meant, Usagi didn't know and hadn't asked.

Rei, however, had elected to stay right where she'd always been – the Hikawa shrine. With the passing of her grandfather, she had assumed the role of chief priestess, a position she assured Usagi was congruent with her own dreams for the future. Her decision to continue on with her previous life was more easily said than done, however, in light of the continued media interest surrounding the members of the Sailor Team. In the days following the "Death Phantom Incident", the Hikawa Shrine had become little more than a tourist destination, packed daily with the curious public and bloodthirsty paparazzo – both eager to catch a glimpse of the elusive priestess. This drastic change in temple clientele had led Rei to declare herself permanently unavailable for interviews or photographs, and if any over-eager shutterbug had a problem with that, she had no problem introducing them to her bamboo broom.

Minako, on the complete other hand, had taken to the spotlight like a clown to a unicycle. In the few days since the Death Phantom attacks, she had moved to California, shortened her name to "Mina", shot a pilot for a daytime talk show (titled, appropriately enough, _The Mina Show_), landed a record deal, and purchased the rights for a future Sailor Moon movie project. Her tell-all book was due out next spring.

Slight movement from the corner of her eye caught Usagi's attention then, forcing her to turn away. Mamoru had partially descended the altar steps and now had a hand out. She took it after handing her bouquet off to the nearest bridesmaid and stepped up to his side.

_Beautiful, _he mouthed.

She squeezed his hand in response and turned to the priest, who had appeared almost miraculously before the church's plaster crucifix focal point. Like everything and everyone else, the man had been perfectly cast. The white chasuble draped over his shoulders was spotless, the crosses adoring the fabric stitched in gold. In one hand he carried a small book with golden-edged pages bound in white leather. His other he held high above his head, signaling that the ceremony had commenced.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses to join Usagi Tsukino and Mamoru Chiba in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men. And therefore, is not by any, to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly."

This admonition struck Usagi as particularly true and she nodded her head slightly in agreement. She then snapped her eyes back to Mamoru, who was looking on the priest with wrinkled-brow intensity. And as she continued to hold the strong line of his jaw in view, she found herself remembering.

The rush of green wind, the rustle of fresh leaves, that cascade of sounds you never heard while on the moon. And silhouetted against the lush background of forest, reclining alongside a babbling brook, a raven-haired youth, stripped to the waist to counteract the heat of the day. An earthling, the first she had ever seen.

That memory, worn and faded like an old photograph, rose to Usagi's mind and she smiled faintly at the recollection. How long ago had that been? A thousand years? A hundred thousand? It didn't matter. What mattered was that same boy was standing with her now, that he and she had defied the gods and emerged triumphant.

_Endymion or Mamoru, Prince or King, whatever you were or will become, I'll never stop loving you._

He might've heard her on some level, for as soon as that private vow slipped through her mind, he gave her hand a soft squeeze and winked. She returned the gesture with a shy giggle and glanced quickly at the audience to gaze their reaction to this little bit of pre-marital flirtation. Either they hadn't caught it or didn't care, for every face she saw staring back at her was rosy and grinning. Every pew, every available standing space, was filled with that same face, duplicated over and over again. The only spot in the church left empty was the front row. Its polished wood remained empty, undecorated. That single row, left bare as a reminder of all the lives Death Phantom had taken.

And then there was Hotaru - Hotaru who could've very well been among those symbolized by that empty pew. Usagi caught sight of her holding two bouquets, one her own unique arrangement of tulips, the other the collection of roses Usagi had handed off.

Hotaru. With that alabaster skin and ivory gown, she resembled a perfect china doll. And actually, it was the first time Usagi had seen her out of uniform since _that night_.

Hotaru. In the past month, the girl had attached herself to Usagi as protector and bodyguard. In her constant guise as Sailor Saturn, she shadowed the Queen's every step, seldom speaking, always on the lookout for danger. She was a permanent background fixture during the interviews and photo shoots. She sat next to the Queen and King in planes (Silence Glaive always within arm's reach). She kept watch during the night outside the hotel rooms where they slumbered. And even when the call of nature sounded, she was always right outside the bathroom door.

_Hotaru, _Usagi remembered asking her once, _don't you have something else you'd rather be doing? Don't you have a dream you want to chase after? I appreciate your company and all, but I want you to be happy._

And her response: _I am. Protecting you, I find true meaning._

And that had been that.

"Love is patient. Love is kind."

_My dear, dear Hotaru, _Usagi thought.

"It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud."

_And the rest of my girls –_

"It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."

_I love you all like sisters, and I know –_

"Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects-"

_Near or far –_

"-always trusts-"

_Wherever we might find ourselves –_

"-always hopes-"

_We can always find the road back home and find strength in the fact that –_

"- and always preserves."

_We are as one again._

And then came the time for the exchanging of vows, which bride and groom did facing each other while holding hands. They had prepared their own promises, and spoke them to each other through trembling breaths and the shedding of tears. As to what they said, that will have to remain a mystery. To write it down would be to cheapen the moment. Language alone is far too cumbersome a medium to convey the meaning of love as it was expressed there, in that church, on that day. Suffice it to say, however, that when the two of them had finished, there was not a dry eye to be found within the audience. The Politician and commoner had been reduced to tears alike.

Then the order for the rings to be brought forward was made. Hearing the proclamation, Luna and Artemis strolled down the aisle with heads held high and the wedding rings tied to ribbons around their necks. And when the two cats had reached the end of the passage, two small boys (babies, really) emerged from the crowd, untied the ribbons, and bestowed the rings upon the corresponding individual. Mamoru's (a simple band of plain silver) was given to Usagi by Frankie Mercer – who, in a life past, had been the child of Mamoru's American neighbors. And Usagi's (the same heart-shaped ring she had received that day in the airport two years ago) was handed to Mamoru by Isamu – the child whose simple faith had, once upon a time, birthed the Silver Crystal anew.

Once again, vows were made, but this time, they were accompanied by the exchanging of rings. And when that part of the ceremony had concluded, the joyful words rang out:

_"I now pronounce you husband and wife!"_

And before the priest could give his permission, the bride and groom came together in their first kiss as man and wide. And it was then that she felt it. Felt it for the first time – something like a stirring deep within the depths of her belly, followed by a warm sensation rising from her heart.

"Ah."

She knew immediately.

"What?" Mamoru's expression was troubled.

"I felt it," she whispered in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

She took his hands then, smiled at the utterly clueless look on his face, and whispered: "The feeling that a new star will be born."

And then he knew, too. He took her again in his arms, kissed her once more (much to the audience's delight), and guided her carefully down the altar steps.

_Soon we will have our daughter, _she thought. _A new Sailor Soldier. _

Then, her bouquet reclaimed, she halted in her steps, causing Mamoru to quickly turn back.

"Oh, until the day we finish our duty, do you think we can protect this planet together?"

Mamoru nodded. "Of course."

Holding the roses beneath her chin, she decided to press the subject further still. "Can we live together? Forever?"

"I promise."

And to show her he meant it, he took her face in his hands and spoke these words as a golden crescent moon flared briefly to life upon her forehead: "We will always be together."

And with that, the expensive bouquet of white roses was dropped to the floor between them with a crunch.

_I promise too, _Usagi thought as she reached out for him with both hands. _I will always protect you._

Their lips touched again, but now it was different. Now they were joined as one, husband and wife, expectant father and mother.

A moment later, Usagi broke the seal, bent, scooped up her flowers, and dashed back toward the vestibule, where her maids of honor had already gathered with outstretched arms. She ran betwixt a standing ovation, passing her past on the one side and her future on the other. She trailed back over her endless train and veil, minding not a bit that she was running them both in the process. And when she reached the end of her journey, she turned back to her husband and laughed.

"Mamo-chan!"

The audience roared with approval, clapping and smiling and weeping all at once.

And as he stared back at her, Neo-Queen Serenity, framed beneath a cerulean sky with the moon hanging as a second sun overhead, the thought that came to his mind was this: _Even someday when we disappear, and new Sailor Soldiers are born, Sailor Moon, you will always be invincible. The most beautiful shining star._

…

And somewhere, chained beneath the rocky mantle of the planet Nemesis, Death Phantom stirred.

_* ~ The End ~ *_

_ Authors note: Well, this is it. I want to thank you all so very, very much for your continued support. It's meant a lot to me these past few years. (Years. WOW.) I first encountered Sailor Moon by happenchance while surfing through the channels. I was in the fourth grade at the time and I've been involved in an ongoing love affair ever since. Thank you all again!_


End file.
